

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

©^np.R.2^. @ijli^rif(]^i 3^0, 

0JL_ 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 














1 












\ 


1 » 




> ±4.* 


»rT,,, ,< 


,sN(! 






■'T ^'l ' -■* 

:i'-^ 




I-* 


V 



VC-7' 




/>^ 


LJ'^'. 


f 


• > 






hi 


-4-' 


'li 






Vi 


C>' 




r • w -.^^, ,‘ .' rTop^ *, 

f0B5i)\-: • v!? j-rrV*^- ■"* 


■j •I* r' 


I* ‘ 






T J 


■«“■ 9 




I : 


•J*'X- 


%\ t 


^"r v- * v " . K 

>. i • -ft' 

> '• *. \ ' , 

> o • W • > 

♦ ';<?. ' ; ' 3 


**v '» 




j * 








fjj' 


<!«• 






'1 


'#V 


f . 






iV 




■> »' 


i ■*• 4 , A- •* :■'. 

15i.a«Jt ■•'- .■^^•. ■’ ■•’ .i^ 

*^Nn6l!^ aVt * -mW.’ . ' lb A ' B ‘ A 1 « • > » j*' t^T~ 


rjs 


t^/ 


Ijfh' 


it 


feMsafct* Mi: ; ^ i 


1 1- « 





f'dy^ 


*! » 


'\7* 




V J. 


f 


v '• 






-t-: 


,v^. 




r^. 








04 




11^1^ 

'i'4 










1 > 


- 


^‘1 




^"1*- 






V: # 




X 


-f 


•^■1 


V 




>. 




^fV 








V. •« 








f'*. ^^ 


r V ff 


'^. -; W> 


,1* 


X . ^ 






;i.? 


'^; . . 




V ' f 


1 '* -. 


i^i 


I ! ^ J 




t'fy 




V 


- ‘j 






’^%- 


JPI 




UJ 




fe <• 


nJ^ 




Page 


Old Bristol. 


Fnmtispiece. 














OLD BRISTOL: 

A STORY OF 

THE EARLY EMLISH BAPTISTS. 

BY 

L. M. N. 



PH ILAD ELPH I A : 


American ffapti^t publication Society, 

14^0 Chestnut Street. 



SSi= 




T 




^■'](w\CC9 ') 

y * 

OLD BRISTOL: 


A STOKY OF 


THE EAELY ENGLISH BAPTISTS. 


BY 

L. M. N. • 



PHILADELPHIA : 

AMEEICAN BAPTIST PUBLICATION SOCIETY, 
1420 CHESTNUT STREET. 

ri^cPj. 




Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1880, by the < 
AMEKICAN BAPTIST PUBLICATION SOCIETY, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 


Westcott & Thomson, 
SATtotypers and Electrotypers, Philada. 


CONTENTS 


CIIAPTEB PAGE 

I— Crosiwell’s Landing at Bristol 5 

II. — Annette’s Accident at Lawford’s Gate . 25 

III. — Master Listen’s Family 35 

IV. — Elsa Stein 44 

V. — Captain Carthew’s Visit to Master Kiffin 57 

VI. — The Battle of Dunbar '73 

yli. — M istress Carthew’s Talk with Mistress 
/ Listen 88 

J VIII. — Mistress Bertha gains her Point .... 98 

IX. — A Visit from the Lady Cortland .... 106 

X. — The Battle of Worcester 119 

XI. — The Sad Journey to Kidderminster . . . 134 

XII. — Elsa goes to Therlton Hall 140 

XIII. — Mirk Monday 155 

XIV. — Master Willoughby’s Proposal 165 

XV. — A Dark Night’s Kide 174 

XVI.— Dick Bardin’s Disappointment 189 

3 


4 


CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER PAGB 

XVII.— Jack Stone and Annette at Mistress 

Bardin’s 202 

XVIII. — Discovery at the Inn 217 

XIX. — Elsa Finds her Father 233 

XX.— A Sailor’s Courtship 246 

XXI. — Annette’s Journey to London .... 254 

XXII. — Cromwell’s Fortunate Day 272 

XXIII.— Eoyalty Kestored 282 

XXIV. — Troubles for the Baptists 288 

XXV. — Francis Carthew begins Life .... 300 

XXVI. — The Plague in London 309 

XXVII. — The Bed Cross 320 

XXVIII. — Hugh Middleton makes Kestitution . 328 
XXIX. — Farewell to Old Bristol 337 


Old Bristol. 


CHAPTEK I. 

CROMWELL'S LANDING AT BRISTOL. 

I T was a mild, cloudy morning in the end of May, 
1650. The narrow streets of the old city of Bris- 
tol were wet and muddy from the effects of a recent 
heavy rain, and only at rare intervals a gleam of 
sunlight pierced through the clouds, lighting up the 
pointed gables and projecting windows of the old 
wooden houses, and gilding the carved stonework of 
the High Cross and the towers of the four churches 
clustered around it. But, notwithstanding the threat- 
ening appearance of the sky, many people were hur- 
rying through the streets toward the wharf, where a 
vessel from Ireland was hourly expected to arrive. 
At an upper window of a house on the High Street 
two children stood eagerly watching the crowd in the 
street below. 

“ I will open the window, Annette ; then we can 
see down the street to the bridge,” said the little boy, 
1 * 5 


6 


OLD BRISTOL. 


standing on tiptoe to reach the fastening of the lat- 
tice. 

“ No, no, Francis !” cried the little girl, shaking 
her head with the motherly caution of an older sis- 
ter ; “ it is too dangerous. Mother bade me keep the 
window latched, for she said we might lean out too 
far.” 

The boy drew back his head, and pressed his face 
against the small diamond-shaped panes. 

“ General Cromwell will pass by, and I shall not 
see him,” he said disconsolately. “ I can see nothing 
here but Master Hollister’s grocer-shop.” 

“You shall see General Cromwell, my little man,” 
cried a cheerful voice behind him ; and, turning, the 
children perceived a young man in sailor’s dress 
standing near them. 

“ Dick Bardin !” cried Annette, surprised. “ When 
did you come ?” 

“This morning, from London,” answered Dick, 
seating himself and lifting Francis on his knee. “I 
have a packet to deliver to your mother, and after- 
ward I am going to the wharf. The vessel is not in 
yet, for these high winds have made the Channel 
very rough, and I fear that the crossing has been 
long and dangerous; but it is clearing now, and I 
will take you with me, my boy, to see the great gen- 
eral land, if your mother does not say nay.” 


OLD BRISTOL. 


7 


“ Will you take me too ?” asked Annette eagerly. 

Dick Bardin glanced doubtfully at the fresh, dain- 
ty little figure. “ You would be jostled by the crowd,” 
he answered, “ and the streets are too dirty for lit- 
tle maidens to walk them.” 

“ If only I were a boy, it would not matter if it 
rained,” sighed Annette as she peered down again at 
the people splashing through the mud-puddles ; but 
any reply to this suggestion was prevented by the en- 
trance of her mother, a tall and graceful lady of 
stately bearing, though her face was singularly gen- 
tle. Returning Dick’s low bow with a courteous 
greeting, she asked anxiously, 

“ Do you bring me good tidings of my husband. 
Master Bardin ?” 

“ Captain Carthew bade me deliver this letter^ and 
say that he will himself be in Bristol in less than a 
fortnight,” answered Bardin as he gave a small 
sealed packet into the lady’s hands. 

This news was greeted with an exclamation of 
delight from the children, while a bright flush of 
pleasure rose in the usually pale face of their 
mother. 

“Is there a letter for me? What does father 
say?” asked Annette, quickly forgetting General 
Cromwell and the crowd that was assembling to do 
him honor, as she ran to her mother’s side. 


8 


OLD BRISTOL. 


“Wait a moment, thou impatient little maid,’^ 
said Mrs. Carthew smilingly. “Master Bardin is 
weary after his long journey, and stands in need of 
refreshment.” 

But Dick had not forgotten General Cromwell, 
nor had Francis, who stood pulling his sleeve to 
remind him of his promise. 

. “ The vessel from Ireland is expected at any mo- 
ment,” he said eagerly, “ and I would fain see the 
brave general land. I must not delay, or I shall be 
too late. May I take the boy with me to see his 
country’s deliverer?” 

The young man’s face glowed with enthusiasm, 
and he was as anxious to be gone as the child ; so, 
with a few words of caution, Mrs. Carthew gave her 
consent ; and as they left the room she sat down to 
break the seal of her husband’s letter. 

Mr. Carthew was a merchant of substance in Bris- 
tol before the wars between King Charles I. and his 
Parliament broke out. The monopolies given and 
the ta3f:es imposed by King Charles, during the ten 
years that he governed without a Parliament, brought 
Mr. Carthew’s affairs into very great straits, but 
when some among his fellow-merchants began to 
accuse the king, he held firmly to his allegiance. 

“ Be patient and all will be set right,” he said to 
his friend, Mr. Richard Chambers of London. 


OLD BEISTOL. 


9 


“ His Majesty will see what the people need, and we 
shall have justice done us.” 

But Mr. Chambers retorted rather sharply, “ Wait 
till you have been fined two thousand pounds because 
you will not pay duties that the law does not require 
on a bale of silk. That is the justice His Majesty 
meted out to me when I was nearly ruined with his 
taxes and imposts. You cannot trust a man who 
casts ofiT his most solemn promises, when they do 
not serve his turn, with as little thought as I cast 
away my worn-out shoes.” 

Soon after this, in 1636, money was needed to 
build up the fleet, and the king issued a writ that 
every county and town must pay a certain sum. 
The amount to be raised in Bristol was eight hun- 
dred pounds, and Mr. Carthew paid his share, though 
he received a letter from Mr. Chambers urging him 
to withstand it. Before long the news came that 
Mr. Chambers was in prison, and the country was 
ringing with the trial of Mr. John Hampden, who 
boldly refused to pay another penny of taxes that 
were imposed without the will and consent of the 
people. 

Distressed at the troubles in which his friend was 
involved, Mr. Carthew resolved to make a journey 
to London to try to persuade him to yield. But this 
visit, instead of reconciling Mr. Chambers to the 


10 


OLD BRISTOL. 


arbitrary government of the king, aroused to the 
fullest extent Mr. Carthew’s indignation at the injus- 
tice he saw on all sides. The Star Chamber and the 
Court of High Commission, institutions that were 
possessed of almost unlimited power in civil and 
ecclesiastical affairs, now exercised that power in the 
most arbitrary manner. Certain streets were set 
apart for particular trades; and in Cheapside and 
Lombard Street all shopkeepers except the gold- 
smiths had been obliged to leave, that these streets 
might present a finer appearance. 

Even the private citizen of London could neither 
live where he pleased nor eat what he pleased. 
Houses were condemned to be pulled down, and the 
owners were obliged to accept the compensation that 
was offered them, or else to pay a heavy fine that was 
imposed if the houses remained standing after the 
time decreed for their destruction ; and the price of 
different articles of food was fixed by law, so the 
country-people would not bring provisions to the 
London market. 

As there was ample space, and no reason why 
houses should not be built on it, the only possible 
reason for the laws forbidding the extension of the 
city was to bring in money from fines to supply the 
king’s extravagance ; and the regulation of the price 
of provisions was a folly that could only be com- 


OLD BRISTOL. 


11 


mitted where the people had no voice in the govern- 
ment. 

But the bitterest feelings were aroused by the in- 
terference in matters of religion. Mr. Prynne, a 
barrister of Lincoln’s Inn, had written a book 
against plays and play-actors which cost him five 
thousand pounds and the loss of his ears ; and soon 
after Mr. Car the w returned to Bristol the news came 
that Mr. Prynne, with Dr. Bastwick and Mr. Bur- 
ton, had been put in the pillory and branded on fore- 
head and cheeks for WTiting against Sabbath-break- 
ing and the Bomish innovations of the bishops. 

“ It is bad enough to be taxed and ground down 
in our business,” said Mr. Carthew to Mr. Hazzard, 
the young clergyman of the parish, “but when it 
comes to interfering with religion, then the flames 
break out. The poor gentlemen were not far wrong 
about the bishops ; for with vestments and ceremo- 
nies the London priests are following hard on the 
Church of Borne. Not one of the churches I saw in 
London has the communion-table in the centre, as it 
used to be. It is moved to the east end and railed 
in, and we must call it the altar now. Altars and 
priests! How soon will the pope and the mass 
follow?” 

“ You must ask His Grace the Archbishop of Can- 
terbury,” answered Mr. Hazzard. 


12 


OLD BRISTOL. 


“ Ay, it is not hard to see where he is tending,” 
replied Mr. Carthew. “ The daughter of the Earl of 
Devonshire has recently gone over to the Romish 
Church ; and when Archbishop Laud asked her 
reasons, she answered, ‘ Tis chiefly because I hate 
to travel in a crowd.’ The archbishop was puzzled 
to understand her meaning, and she explained, ‘ I 
perceive Your Grace and many others are making 
haste to Rome, and therefore, in order to prevent 
my being crowded, I have gone before you.’ But 
she did not lose her ears for her boldness, like poor 
Mr. Prynne and Mr. Burton. I am thankful, Mr. 
Hazzard, that you do not think it necessary to fol- 
low in these innovations and persecutions.” 

“I deeply regret them,” replied the clergyman, 
“ but for that reason I believe that I have preached 
my last sermon at St. Nicholas.” 

This proved true, for soon after a new clergyman 
appeared at St. Nicholas parish church, and outward 
show and ceremony took the place of Mr. Hazzard’s 
heartfelt, earnest devotion. 

While murmurs of discontent began to be heard 
on all sides in England, the king found himself in 
worse trouble with his Scottish subjects. The at- 
tempt to force the bishops and the prayer-book of 
the English Church on the Scotch Presbyterians was 
met with open defiance in Edinburgh; and in a 


OLD BRISTOL. 


13 


short time all Scotland had united in a covenant to 
abjure the doctrines and ceremonies of the Romish 
Church, and to resist the innovations of the prelates. 

Mr. Carthew heard of this through letters from 
Scotland, but the Weekly News^ the Weekly Account^ 
and the little sheets called “ Curran toes,” which 
brought the public its scanty supply of news, did 
not once mention Scotland. 

The Star Chamber guarded carefully these little 
peepholes though which men got a glimpse of the 
outside world. News from abroad might safely be 
discussed, but the king’s doings in Scotland were 
not to be laid open to the criticism of his English 
subjects. 

But the universal discontent could not be sup- 
pressed; and at last, with troubles and grievances 
on every hand, the king called a Parliament on the 
13th of April, 1640. The Parliament, however, 
showed more inclination to listen to the complaints 
of the people than to follow the directions of the 
king; and on the fifth of the next month he dis- 
solved it in high displeasure. 

Thus the summer wore away, and in the beginning 
of November the news came to Bristol that the mem- 
orable Long Parliament had begun its sittings. At 
this time Mr. Carthew took his cousin, Hugh Mid- 
dleton, into his business. This young man had 
2 


14 


OLD BRISTOL. 


already been employed in some transactions with the 
woollen manufacturers of Tiverton and Exeter, and 
had proved himself so shrewd and trustworthy that 
Mr. Carthew placed great confidence in him. 

At last the troubles between King Charles and his 
Parliament ended in open war, and in 1643 Bristol 
was besieged by the king’s army under Prince 
Kupert, and taken with terrible slaughter. After 
that fearful morning the soldier was aroused in Mr. 
Carthew, and when the tide of war swept away from 
Bristol, he went to join the Parliamentary army, 
leaving all his affairs in the hands of his cousin. It 
was a wise arrangement ; for Hugh Middleton was a 
cautious young man, not at all inclined for fighting, 
and very wary about expressing his opinions ; and 
while the troops of Prince Eupert held the city he 
was supposed to be a staunch royalist. 

Although it was known that Mr. Carthew was now 
a captain under Cromwell’s command, his family 
suffered very little molestation ; and when, two years 
later. Prince Eupert was obliged to surrender the 
city, every one marvelled that Master Middleton 
had ever been thought a royalist, for his friends re- 
marked that although he said very little, his sympa- 
thies were evidently with the Parliament and the 
people. 

During these years of civil war Captain Carthew 


OLD BRISTOL. 


15 


saw little of his family ; but his short visits were al- 
ways hailed with delight by Annette, and hardly a 
letter came after she was old enough to read without 
a few lines enclosed for his “ little maid.” 

In the early part of the preceding year he had 
spent several months in Bristol ; and it was suspected 
by some that he had purposely planned that he 
should be sent to Bristol, in order to be absent from 
London at the time of the king’s execution, as it was 
remarked that, although he openly disapproved of 
the king’s conduct, he never expressed any opinion 
about his trial and the sentence of death. 

In July, when Cromwell was in Bristol, before he 
crossed the Channel to subdue Ireland, Captain Car- 
thew was again called into active service, but soon 
after the Irish campaign had begun he was sent back 
to London with despatches. He made light of the 
matter to his wife, but the real reason of his return 
was a wound that he had received. It was not seri- 
ous, but it unfitted him for hard service, and while he 
was in London he was prostrated by a low fever. 
The birth of a little daughter prevented his wife 
from going to nurse him, and the weeks passed in 
the greatest anxiety, until she received the tidings 
that her husband was recovering. She had marked 
his gradually-returning strength in his handwriting, 
from the first feeble lines that he had written from 


16 


OLD BRISTOL. 


his sick-bed to ease her anxiety, to the firm, bold 
hand that greeted her eyes as she unfolded the sheet 
that Dick Bardin had just brought. 

There was the usual enclosure for Annette, but the 
letter was not very long. It told of his complete re- 
covery, and of his speedy return to Bristol ; but one 
passage caused Mrs. Carthew many misgivings. 

“ I have found some one who needs thy care,” wrote 
the captain. “ A German maiden, an orphan, is re- 
cently come to London. She is a Baptist, and hath 
suffered much persecution for her faith. I met her 
first at the congregation of Mr. William Kiffin in 
Fisher’s Folly. In good truth, Margaret, I begin to 
think that these people are nearer right in their way 
of thinking than we are. But more of that when I 
see thee. If the maiden hath not found other friends, 
I will bring her to Bristol with me, for thy kind heart 
will pity her forlorn condition.” 

Mr. William Kiffin, the pastor of a Baptist con- 
gregation, had been mentioned before in Captain Car- 
thew’s letters. He was also a rich merchant, and had 
shown no little kindness to the sick and wounded sol- 
dier; but Mrs. Carthew dreaded lest her husband 
should be induced by his gratitude to give any atten- 
tion to what she considered Mr. Kiffin’s wild and er- 
roneous doctrines. Her fears had been increased by 
the fact that he had requested her to make no ar- 


OLD BRISTOL. 


17 


rangement about the christening of their child until 
he could come to Bristol and talk with her about the 
matter. His words in this letter, and the prospect 
of receiving a Baptist maiden into her household, 
caused her no little uneasiness, and she was ponder- 
ing anxiously when Annette, who had waited pa- 
tiently after finishing her letter, ventured to inter- 
rupt. 

“ Mother,” she asked, “ will baby Avice be chris- 
tened when father comes ? Mr. Ingello came yester- 
day when you were out, and he frowned when he 
heard that baby had not been christened.” 

“What did Mr. Ingello come for?” asked Mrs. 
Carthew, without answering this question. 

“ He came to get the book of songs that you prom- 
ised to loan him. Nurse was just going to take baby 
out, but you had told her where to find the book ; so 
I held baby while she went to fetch it, and Mr. In- 
gello sat down and gave her his seals to play with 
while he talked to me,” answered Annette. “ I wish 
you had been there, mother, to hear the little dance 
he played on the spinnet : it made Avice laugh and 
clap her hands. I like Mr. Hazzard a great deal 
better than Mr. Ingello, but Mr. Hazzard cannot 
play on the spinnet as Mr. Ingello does.” 

“ Little maidens should not say they like and they 
do not like people who are a great deal older and 
2* B 


18 


OLD BEISTOL. 


wiser than themselves,” said Mrs. Carthew, rather 
startled by her little daughter’s criticism of the two 
clergymen. 

But, mother, I don’t like — I mean Mr. Ingello 
need not have frowned at little Avice because she 
had not been baptized,” said Annette, who was rath- 
er apt to hold pretty strongly to her own small opin- 
ions. “ He got up quickly and said something about 
an unregenerate child. I did not understand him, 
but I think he made nurse angry, for she caught up 
Avice, calling her a sweet, innocent babe, and say- 
ing that she was fitter for heaven than many people 
who are in the church. Mr. Ingello was going out 
of the room, but she spoke so loudly that I am sure 
she meant him to hear. What did they mean, 
mother ?” 

A flush of annoyance rose to Mistress Carthew’s 
face, but she answered quietly, “Mr. Ingello only 
meant that it was time that Avice should be made 
a member of the church of Christ by bap- 
tism.” 

“ Am I a member of the church of Christ ?” asked 
Annette. 

“Certainly, my child,” replied her mother, sur- 
prised at the question. “You have learned what your 
godfather and godmother promised for you when you 
were a babe ?” 


OLD BRISTOL. 


19 


‘‘That I would renounce the devil and all his 
works,” answered Annette promptly. “ But I think 
they made a mistake, for I was very naughty yester- 
day when I struck Francis ; and Aunt Bertha says 
that every time I say or do anything naughty it is 
doing the devil’s work. But I do it before I think,” 
she added, puckering up her forehead with a disturbed 
expression. “ Nurse is right, for Avice is a great deal 
better than I am ; she never cries unless something 
hurts her, and she only pats with her little soft 
hands.” 

“ My child, I do not expect you always to remem- 
ber to do right,” said Mistress Carthew, gently smooth- 
ing the puckered brow. “ You are sorry that you 
struck Francis in your naughty fit yesterday, and 
you will try not to do it again.” 

“Yes, I was sorry because I hurt Francis and 
grieved you, but I do not think that I thought of 
the devil at all,” replied Annette candidly. 

“I would rather that you thought of trying to 
please our blessed Saviour,” said her mother. “ Then 
you will be careful to do right.” 

“ Yes,” said Annette with a sigh, “but I am afraid 
I shall forget very often ; and some people who have 
been baptized do not seem to try to remember. I 
heard Dick Bardin tell Aunt Bertha that sailors had 
a rough life, and could not be always thinking of such 


20 


OLD BRISTOL. 


things. He did not seem to care. But what a trouble 
it must be to his godmother when she thinks of what 
she promised for him ! Oh, I should not like at all to 
he a godmother. Would it not be easier to wait till 
the babes grow up and can promise for themselves 7 ” 

“You are too young to understand, my child,” 
said her mother hastily. “ I cannot explain it all to 
you now, and little children should not ask so many 
questions. You can look out of the window till Aunt 
Bertha calls you to sew your seam. I must go now 
to the nursery.” 

She patted her little daughter’s cheek affectionate- 
ly, and rising from her chair she left the room, while 
Annette went back to her post at the window to watch 
for the return of Dick Bardin and Francis, and to 
puzzle her little head over questions that were begin- 
ning to trouble those who were much older and wiser 
than herself. But her meditations were soon put to 
flight by the entrance of a tall, gray-haired woman in 
severely simple dress and close white-frilled cap. She 
had a basket of sewing-materials in her hand, and she 
held out a piece of white work to Annette, saying, 

“ Here is your seam, child, basted ready for you.” 

“ Must it be done to-day, Aunt Bertha ?” asked 
Annette with a sigh. 

“ Nothing is ever learned that is put off till to- 
morrow,” answered her aunt shortly, but at the 


OLD BRISTOL. 


21 


same time she set a few stitches before putting the 
work in the hands of her little niece. 

Mistress Bertha was Captain Carthew’s half-sister. 
Her mother died when she was a little child, and 
when her father married again she was claimed by 
her mother’s brother, a Scotch Presbyterian minister ; 
but when her stepmother died, leaving only one sur- 
viving child, she returned to take care of her father’s 
house and this little brother, to whom she devoted 
all her energies and affection. Her strict Presbyte- 
rian training had impressed upon her heart and mind 
that her one business in life was to do her duty toward 
God and man ; but, unfortunately, she considered that 
one important part of her duty consisted in watching 
over the consciences of all belonging to her. In con- 
sequence of this, while a very strong though un- 
demonstrative affection existed between the brother 
and sister, differences of opinion sometimes arose 
which caused no little trouble to both. 

To the children Aunt Bertha was an object of 
unbounded awe; and their mother, who felt the 
greatest respect for her kind-hearted but rigid sister- 
in-law, greatly dreaded doing anything that might 
offend her. 

Annette took her work with a smothered sigh, and 
heroically turned her chair away from the window ; 
but the seam had not made great progress when 


22 


OLD BRISTOL. 


Bardin returned with Francis, who was wild with 
delight and excitement. 

“ Our brave general has landed,” cried the sailor, 
w^ho was as enthusiastic as the child. ‘‘ It will be 
something for the boy to tell to his children in future 
years that he saw England’s hero returning from his 
great campaign in Ireland. Glad am I that he is 
safe on land, for I greatly feared lest some mischance 
should befall the vessel in that stormy Channel ; and 
we could ill spare our best general now, when all 
these troubles in Scotland are beginning.” 

‘'What troubles?” asked Annette, dropping her 
work. 

“ Young Charles is gaining ground there,” replied 
Bardin ; “ but when Cromwell and his soldiers ar- 
rive he will wish himself back in his fine French 
court, though all Scotland should rally about him.” 

“Surely, General Cromwell will not fight the 
Scotch Covenanters ?” said Mistress Bertha. “ Gen- 
eral Fairfax will never allow that.” 

“We shall see,” replied the sailor cautiously. 
“ The Scots should be too wise to take up the cause 
of this gay young blade. I mistrust him even more 
than I mistrusted his father. Poor King Charles! 
It would have been a hard heart that would not feel 
pity for him as I saw him, a year ago in January, 
when he was led to the scafibld, with the wind lifting 


OLD BEISTOL. 


23 


his gray hairs. Oh, if the poor old gentleman 
would have kept his word, Cromwell would have 
saved him ; but he had been so used to deceit and 
lies that he would not act an honest, straightforward 
part, even to save his head. His son is no better, 
and that the Scots will soon find. I have neither 
pity nor liking for that young gallant ; but his poor 
old father — ” and Dick shook his head sadly. 

“ If King Charles had not been led by his Papist 
queen, he would have done no harm,” returned Mis- 
tress Bertha. “ I would that she, with all her priests 
and wicked advisers, had been led to the scafibld 
instead !” 

“ Nay, nay. Mistress Bertha, that is wholesale 
murder,” cried Dick. 

“ I suppose you would have men wait idly until 
the Smithfield fires and all the dreadful persecutions 
of Bloody Queen Mary’s reign were brought back ?” 
said Mistresss Bertha sharply. 

“Those who can will turn persecutors, whether 
they are Roman Catholics or Protestants,” replied 
Dick with a laugh. “See how the Baptists are 
scofied at by all others. In truth, I think they are 
more hated than the Papists by many Protestants. 
In the great discussion which Dr. Featley had with 
Mr. Kiffin and three other Baptist preachers in 
Southwark, nigh upon nine years ago, my father 


24 


OLD BRISTOL. 


always said that the Baptists had the best of it ; but 
the reverend doctor railed at them in a most un- 
seemly manner, and in his own book he calls them 
by every evil name he can devise. Yet he does not 
prove them in the wrong. As my poor father used 
to say, he only showed thereby his own weakness. 
I want, if a man is in the wrong, to have it proved 
on him ; to cry him down with a host of bad words 
means nothing.” 

“You at least take up their cause warmly,” said 
Mistress Bertha, who was much surprised at his 
change from a light tone to one of earnest pro- 
test. 

But Dick himself seemed half ashamed of his long 
speech, and he answered hastily, 

“ I have naught to do with them ; only I like to see 
justice done. But mother will be vexed if I stay so 
long away from her. I promised to return soon after 
General Cromwell’s vessel arrived.” 

“ But you promised to tell me about the Indian 
sachems in their queer huts,” cried Francis, who had 
been giving Annette an account of the ships and the 
crowd. 

“ That must wait till another day,” said Dick, pat- 
ting his head ; and with a hasty farewell he left the 


room. 


CHAPTER II. 

ANNETTE'S ACCIDENT AT LAWFORD'S GATE. 

N eager watch was now kept for the arrival of 



Captain Carthew. The children could think 
and talk of nothing else; and several times, when 
they went out for a walk with their Aunt Bertha, 
Annette persuaded her to take them in the direction 
of Lawford^s Gate, as that was the road by which 
their father would come from London. Lawford’s 
Gate was an old archway in the outer city-wall, and 
the way to it led past the Castle and out old Market 
Street to the end of Gloucester Lane. It was a long 
walk, and could not be taken when the baby went 
with them. But one bright day in the middle of 
June, Annette and Francis went out alone with their 


aunt. 


They had not gone far when they met Dick Bar- 
din, who turned and walked with them. 

“ I think Captain Carthew will surely arrive to- 
day,” he said. “ The Dolphin is to sail very shortly, 
and he promised to be here before she left.” 


3 


25 


26 


OLD BEISTOL. 


“We can walk to Lawford’s Gate to-day, Aunt 
Bertha,” urged Annette ; “ please let us go all the 
way.” 

Aunt Bertha readily consented, and Francis insist- 
ed that Dick must go with them. 

Near the pump in Wine Street they passed a nar- 
row lane, and Dick paused a moment to look down 
it, saying, 

“ Is not that the way to Mr. Hynam’s meeting in 
the Pithay?” 

“ I have heard that some misguided folk are in the 
habit of going there to hear false doctrine,” answered 
Mistress Bertha sharply. 

But Mistress Hazzard goes there,” said Dick, who 
could never resist the temptation to argue with Mis- 
tress Bertha ; “ and the captain, you well know, has 
a high regard for Mr. Hazzard.” 

“ Mr. Hazzard is a good man, but the righteous 
Eli could not keep his sons from evil courses when 
he let them rule. And many a good man has found 
the same trouble when he lets either wife or child get 
the upper hand,” replied Mistress Bertha. 

“ You did not call it evil courses when Mistress 
Kelly sat in her shop sewing in the face of all the 
people on Christmas morning. I saw her when I was 
a boy. I remember I told you of it, and you praised 
it,” said Bardin. 


OLD BEISTOL. 


27 


I would not hold with those pagan idolatries of 
feast-days and fast-days, and images and vestments 
in the churches. But when Mrs. Kelly married Mr. 
Hazzard she had no business to set herself up to be 
better than he is and Mistress Bertha’s cap-frill 
began to quiver, a sure sign that she was growing ex- 
cited. 

“That’s what I say too,” cried Dick, laughing. 
“ A wife is never better than her husband, and ’tis 
her first duty to learn that.” 

“ It would be well for you if you had a good wife 
to keep you straight,” answered Mistress Bertha. “ I 
was talking of wise men.” 

Dick took the insinuation with a good-humored 
laugh, and then inquired, 

“ Is it true that Mistress Hazzard will not have 
children baptized?” 

“ I know not,” said Mistress Bertha. “ I have no 
patience with such doctrines. It is bad enough when 
men take up false and silly notions to the detriment 
of their own souls, but to peril the souls of poor lit- 
tle innocents is downright wickedness.” 

By this time the cap-frill was quivering ominously, 
and Dick’s next words did not smooth matters. 

“ I don’t see,” he remarked, musingly, “ why a lit- 
tle water more or less on a baby’s face should put its 
soul in danger.” 


28 


OLD BRISTOL. 


“ Hold your peace, man cried Mistress Bertha 
indignantly. “Is the world clean up side down? 
The Almighty only knows what may next be de- 
vised by these silly, misguided folk, led away of 
Satan.” 

And she hurried on after the children, who, tired 
of listening to a discussion which they did not under- 
stand, had run on, talking eagerly together of their 
father’s return. 

Dick followed at a quick pace, but he soon found 
that Mistress Bertha would have nothing more to say 
to him, and Francis clung to his hand, begging him 
to tell him some stories of his voyages and the strange 
world on the other side of the wide Atlantic. 

When they reached the gateway Mistress Bertha 
remembered that she had an errand to a butcher who 
lived close by. But Francis and Annette begged so 
earnestly to be allowed to stay and watch for their 
father that she left them under the care of Bardin 
while she went to Master Moone’s house. 

Lawford’s Gate was adorned on the inner side with 
two statues of old West-Saxon kings, and these were 
always objects of great interest to Annette. When 
Bertha left them Bardin and Francis sat down on 
the lower step of a stone staircase leading to the top 
of the wall ; but Annette, who wanted to gain a bet- 
ter view of the diadem of her favorite king, climbed 


OLD BRISTOL. 


29 


higher up the steps. Suddenly she heard Francis 
calling to her, and, looking down, she saw Bardin 
gazing eagerly through the archway, while Francis 
beckoned and called to her to make haste and come 
down. 

“Father has come!” she exclaimed joyfully, and 
she hurried down the steps, but in her haste her foot 
slipped and she fell just before she reached the bot- 
tom. A sharp twinge of pain made her scream, and 
Dick ran to lift her up, while Francis continued call- 
ing, 

“ Come quick, Annette ! It is father, with some- 
body riding behind him.” 

“ I can’t. — Oh, Dick, don’t I” cried poor Annette 
as she tried to rise and another sharp twinge seemed 
to shoot through her. 

“There, now, don’t cry; I will carry you,” said 
Dick soothingly ; but when he tried very gently to 
lift her Annette groaned and begged him not to 
touch her, while she grew so white that Dick was al- 
most as much frightened as Francis, who had now 
run to her. 

Dick was looking anxiously for Mistress Bertha, 
when a kind voice behind him asked, 

“ What ails you, my little lass?” and a quiet, pleas- 
ant-looking woman bent over the child. 

“Mistress Hazzard,” cried Dick, “you are more 


30 


OLD BEISTOL. 


welcome than a breeze after a storm. She is sorely 
hurt, I fear.” 

“ Quick, bring some water!” said Mistress Hazzard. 
“You can get it at Master William Listun’s, the 
glover, just outside the gate. And bid him follow 
you with a board or cot to lay the poor child 
on.” 

As Dick sped away he met Mistress Bertha, who 
had seen from the distance that something was wrong, 
and was running toward them. 

Anuette was lying with her leg twisted under her 
in such a manner that Mistress Hazzard was con- 
vinced that it must be broken. To try to lift her 
without help was difficult and dangerous, so it was 
with great relief that Mistress Hazzard saw Mistress 
Bertha. The latter, though pale and breathless with 
fright, had her wits about her, and the two women 
managed to move the child into a less painful posi- 
tion, while the water with which Dick soon returned 
brought back a little color to her blue lips. 

“ Where is father ?” she asked, trying bravely to 
fight off the faintness. “ I can’t go to meet him ;” 
and her lips quivered. 

The expected travellers had been completely forgot- 
ten, but as Annette spoke the ,tramp of horses’ hoofs 
was heard under the gateway, and Captain Carthew’s 
voice called out, 


OLD BRISTOL. 


31 


“ What has happened ? Is some one hurt ? — Wait, 
my friend, I will help you to carry that stretcher.” 

He was speaking to William Listun, who, carry- 
ing a small folding-cot, was trying to pass the horses. 
Then, catching sight of Bardin, who came to meet 
him, he cried, 

“ Ho, Dick, well met ! Do not let my horse fright- 
en this maiden, while I give what assistance I 
can.” 

Turning to a young girl who sat on the pillion be- 
hind him, he spoke a few words in German, and 
drew his horse to a large stone at one corner of the 
gateway. 

“But, captain — ” stammered Dick, feeling that 
he ought to prepare the father for the sight of his 
injured child, but not knowing how to set about it. 
Before he could say more the young girl had sprung 
lightly from the pillion, and the keen eye of the sol- 
dier had taken in the whole of the little group that 
surrounded Annette. In another moment he had 
dismounted and strode up to them. Annette tried 
to smile as he leaned over her, but she could only 
exclaim, 

“ My knee hurts me so ! — Oh, father, what shall I 
do T’ and the forced-back tears rolled down her 
cheeks. 

“ There, my little maid ! keep a brave heart,” he 


32 


OLD BEISTOL. 


answered cheerily as he motioned to them to bring 
the litter nearer. Then stooping down, with skill 
and gentleness learned in handling the wounded on 
many a battlefield he lifted the child and laid her 
on the litter. 

“ She is not fit to go far. Will you take her to 
my house ?” said Mr. Listun ; and the captain, with 
briefly-spoken thanks, lifted one end of the litter 
while Master Listun took the other. 

The other traveller, also a Bristol merchant, who 
was returning with Captain Carthew, spoke a word 
to him in passing, and then rode ofiT for a surgeon. 

“ Shall I go with you ?” asked Mistress Hazzard 
as Mistress Bertha took Francis by the hand and 
followed the litter. 

*‘No, thank you,” said Mistress Bertha stiffly. 
She was very much vexed that she had left the chil- 
dren, and it did not sweeten her temper to find her- 
self indebted to Mistress Hazzard ; so she turned her 
back upon her very shortly. 

Mistress Hazzard only said, 

“ If I can do aught for the child, pray tell me.” 

Then, with a curious little smile on her kindly 
face, she was turning toward the city when a light 
touch on her arm stopped her. The young girl, who 
had kept shyly in the background after Captain Car- 
thew left her, came forward as Mistress Bertha was 


OLD BRISTOL. 


33 


turning away, and she now stood beside Mistress 
Hazzard, who surveyed with surprise her quaint lit- 
tle figure. A long gray cloak covered her from her 
throat to her neat shoe-tie, but a little pointed black 
cap that fitted closely on the crown of her head and 
was tied wdth black ribbons under her chin, and the 
thick braids of her light hair coiled at the back of 
her head and fastened with a silver arrow,, gave her 
a very peculiar appearance. She was gazing with a 
pair of frightened blue eyes into Mistress Hazzard’s 
face, and in a tone of entreaty she asked, 

“What is it, madam? The poor child — who is 
she?’’ 

“She is Captain Carthew’s little girl. She fell 
down these steps and hurt herself, badly, I fear,” an- 
swered Mistress Hazzard. 

“ Ach, the poor child*! and the good captain, I 
weep for him,” exclaimed the girl. “ He is so hap- 
py all the way here that he will soon see his little 
madchen again ! His face is bright when he tells 
me of her ; and now she is hurt I” and her eyes filled 
with tears. 

Her broken English and the little gestures with 
which she clasped her hands showed no less than her 
dress that she was a foreigner, and Mistress Hazzard 
felt interested in her. 

“ Come with me,” she said ; “ we will go to Master 

c 


34 


OLD BRISTOL. 


Listun’s and wait there to hear what the doctor says. 
You must not stay here in the highway.” 

“ True, Mistress Hazzard,” said Dick in a low 
but irate voice behind her. “ See how those lubbers 
are staring and he scowled at a couple of country- 
men who came jogging along on their stout nags, 
with opened mouth and eyes at the odd little pointed 
cap. 

Mistress Hazzard took the girl’s arm and led her 
to the house into which Annette had been carried. 
The door opened just as they reached it, and Captain 
Carthew came out. 

“ Mistress Hazzard, it is kind of you to wait,” he 
said, with a slight look of relief on his anxious face. 
“Will you take care of this maiden, Elsa Stein, 
while I go to fetch my wife?” 

“With all my heart. But how is the child?” 
asked Mistress Hazzard. 

“ She bears it bravely, but I fear it is a sore hurt. 
She begs for her mother, so I must not delay.” 

In another moment they heard the clatter of hoofs 
as he galloped away to the house in the High 


CHAPTER III. 


MASTER LISTEN^ S FAMILY., 

ll/riSTRESS HAZZARD seemed to be well ac- 
quainted with the house, and she led the way 
at once into a low but rather large room on the left 
of the flagged entrance. A number of* chairs were 
standing about in the room in a way which looked 
as if people had just left, and some books lay on a 
square table near the window. Mistress Hazzard 
had taken off* Elsa’s dusty cloak and made her sit 
down to rest, when the door opened again and Dick 
Bardin came in. 

He gave a quick glance around and exclaimed, 
laughingly, 

“ What a pity we are just too late for the con- 
venticle !” 

Mistress Hazzard’s face flushed, but she answered 
quietly, 

“ I would you had been with us. Master Bardin. 
There was fervent prayer ofiered for one who will be 
amid the dangers of the sea before we meet again. 

36 


36 


OLD BRISTOL. 


The Dolphin sails the day after to-morrow, I am 
told.” 

“ Thank you,” said Bardin, dropping his mocking 
tone as he noticed Elsa watching him. “ I hope 
the prayers will bring us better weather than we 
had on our last voyage.” 

‘‘ It was not only good weather that was asked 
for,” replied Mistress Hazzard. “ A sailor needs an 
anchor that will hold in fair weather or in foul.” 

The entrance of Mistress Listun stopped Dick’s 
answer, if indeed he intended to make any. Seeing 
Elsa’s tired face, she insisted on taking her up stairs 
to rest and to wash off the dust of travel. 

“I will bid you farewell. Mistress Elsa,” said 
Dick; ‘‘I may not see you so soon again this 
time.” 

The young girl curtseyed and blushed, but she 
followed her hostess in silence. As the door closed 
behind them Mistress Hazzard asked, 

“Have you, then, met her before?” 

“ It was I who found a safe port for her,” answered 
Dick. “ I went down to the wharf in London with 
Master Kiffin the merchant, and while he was look- 
ing after one of his ships that was just going out to 
Antwerp, a neat little craft from some Dutch port 
came swinging in alongside. I caught sight of an 
old shipmate who used to sail in the Dolphin when 


OLD BRISTOL. 


37 


I first went to sea, so I boarded her ; and there stood 
this German maiden, with her little bundle, close by 
the hatchway. She looked all lost, and I asked 
whither she was bound. Tom said she had come to 
London to look for her father, but she didn’t know 
where to go. So I told Master Kififin of her plight, 
and he took her in tow, and said she should stay 
with his wife till her father came for her. What 
brings her here I don’t know.” ^ 

“ Poor child !” said Mistress Hazzard. “ Does she 
know naught of her father ?” 

“ Not much, I take it,” answered Dick carelessly. 
“ But her friends in Germany are dead, and the 
priests there would not give her any peace ; so she 
came here. — There is the doctor!” and he hastily 
left the room as two horses came clattering up the 
street, one carrying the doctor, and the other, follow- 
ing closely, bringing Captain Carthew, with his wife 
seated on the pillion behind. 

Mistress Hazzard had not been long alone when 
Elsa rejoined her. The young girl had taken off her 
odd cap, and her hair was brushed smoothly back 
and gathered in two long plaits which reached below 
her waist. She wore a short gray skirt, witL a black 
bodice fitting closely to her slight figure. Her face 
was not pretty, but it had a gentle, modest expres- 
sion, and Mistress Hazzard felt more and more at- 
4 


38 


OLD BRISTOL. 


tracted to her, and pointed to her to take a seat by 
her side. 

“What did Master Bardin mean,” asked Elsa, 
“ when he said we were late for a convent — ? The 
long word, I cannot say it.” 

“ A conventicle,” replied Mistress Hazzard. “ He 
was jesting because we meet here every Wednesday to 
pray and study God’s word.” 

“ It was not right,” said Elsa, shaking her head ; 
“ but he did sit so when good Master Kiffin preached ;” 
and she folded her hands on her knee and leaned for- 
ward with an expression of earnest attention. 

“Did he, indeed?” said Mistress Hazzard, her 
face lighting up. “It has sometimes seemed to 
me that he hides serious thought under a jesting 
manner.” 

The sound of footsteps descending the stairs inter- 
rupted their conversation, and they heard the doctor 
saying, 

“ The knee is so much swollen that I cannot decide. 
There is no fracture, but probably a very serious 
sprain. These sprains give more trouble than a 
broken limb. Do not let her make the least move- 
ment of the leg. Apply the lotion. I will see her 
again early in the morning.” 

As the house-door closed behind the doctor’s portly 
figure Mistress Hazzard rose, intending to offer her 


OLD BRISTOL. 


39 


services again, but the sound of Mistress Bertha’s 
voice in its most decided tones stopped her. 

Brother,” she was saying, “ the child must he 
taken home. Would you peril the immortal soul 
for the sake of the perishing body ? These people 
are deluded Anabaptists. I will never consent that 
’fehe shall stay under their roof. Let her be taken 
home without a moment’s delay.” 

“ Oh no, no !” exclaimed a low but excited voice. 
“ Mistress Listun urges that she should stay, and the 
doctor will not allow her to be moved. He says it 
might bring on fever. My child might be lamed for 
life.” 

At this point Captain Carthew probably noticed 
that the door of the adjoining room stood ajar, for 
he spoke a few words in a low, soothing tone and en- 
tered the room with his wife. 

“ Mistress Elsa Stein finds us in trouble and anx- 
iety,” he said, “ but I am sure you have a welcome 
for her, Margaret.” 

Mrs. Carthew advanced with her usual gentleness 
and courtesy of manner to speak to the young Ger- 
man maiden, but the words of greeting had scarcely 
passed her lips when the house-door closed with a 
loud noise, and directly afterward Mistress Listun 
entered the room with a deep flush on her comely 
face. Captain Carthew was standing near the win- 


40 


OLD BRISTOL. 


dow, and he caught sight of the tall and very upright 
figure of Mistress Bertha leading little Francis quick- 
ly away in the direction of the city. He knew very 
well that his sister was no respecter of persons — or 
of feelings either — in any question of religious be- 
lief, and he feared what she might have said. But 
his wife cast an appealing look at him, and as he 
knew it was impossible to move Annette at present, 
he thought it best to ignore anything unpleasant. 

Turning to Mistress Listun with marked courtesy, 
he thanked her for her kind offer that his little 
daughter should occupy a room in her house until 
sufficiently recovered to render her removal entirely 
safe. 

“ The poor lamb is thrice welcome,” exclaimed the 
good woman, who immediately recovered her equa- 
nimity ; “ and now you and this young maiden must 
need rest and food after your journey. — The table is 
spread, and Dorothy will watch with the little wench,” 
she added, turning to Mrs. Carthew. 

But Mrs. Carthew was impatient to return to An- 
nette. It was only the fear that Mistress Bertha 
might gain her point and have the child carried home 
that induced her to leave Annette for this short space 
of time to the care of Mistress Listun’s daughter. 
When she returned to the room she found that An- 
jiette, apparently relieved by the cooling lotion which 


OLD BRISTOL. 


41 


had been applied, had fallen into a doze. She seated 
herself by the side of the bed, and rosy-cheeked Dor- 
othy stole quietly down stairs to the supper-table, 
w^here the whole family, including Master Listun’s 
two apprentices, were already assembled with their 
unexpected guests. 

Captain Carthew was soon engaged in earnest con- 
versation with Master Listun, who was anxious to 
learn something of the state of affairs in London. 
Elsa found herself seated between Mistress Hazzard 
and Dorothy Listun, but she was too shy to talk 
much, and Mistress Hazzard was evidently listening 
with much interest to Captain Carthew. 

“ There is trouble brewing in Scotland, I fear,” re- 
marked Master Listun. Will not the army soon 
have work in the North ?” 

“ There is plenty to do,” replied the captain, “ for 
the Scots have taken up warmly young Charles’s 
cause, and they will not rest till they have tried 
their best to make him our king as well as theirs. 
But Fairfax holds back from fighting against his 
brethren of the Covenant.” 

“ We have General Cromwell ; why not send him ?” 
asked Master Listun. 

“That means to make him commander-in-chief,” 
said the captain, “ and I, for one, w^ould gladly see 
it. Fairfax is too strongly attached to one party. 

4 ^^ 


42 


OLD BEISTOL. 


We do not want to fight for the Covenanters, or in- 
deed to uphold any one sect against the others. It 
is liberty for all that we need, and Cromwell is the 
only one who really understands this.” 

Master Listun’s honest, manly face lighted up, and 
he answered, 

“ In that I heartily agree with you. Put the word 
of God in the hands of all, and let us seek the truth 
there ; but let us not attempt to constrain any man’s 
conscience.” 

“We have learned under Cromwell what liberty 
is,” replied the captain, “ and we will not readily lose 
what we have paid so dearly to gain.” 

Though his words were quiet, his face glowed with 
enthusiasm as he spoke ; but one at least of his hear- 
ers looked pale and troubled. 

“ Is it to be always fighting and grief?” said Elsa 
in a low tone to Mistress Hazzard. 

“ God forbid !” replied the captain, who was seat- 
ed opposite to her and caught the words. “ I should 
tremble if England were to share the fate of poor, 
war-stricken Germany. But the Germans have 
fought for thirty years to gain the freedom that is 
already in our hands, and it will be our own fault 
now if we let it go.” 

The conversation then turned upon the treaty of 
peace that twenty months before had put a stop to 


OLD BRISTOL. 


43 


further bloodshed in the sacked cities and desolated 
fields of Germany, and which had secured to the 
Protestants freedom from the persecutions of the 
Romish Church. 

But it began to grow dusk, and Captain Carthew 
wished to reach home before nightfall. As soon, 
therefore, as supper was finished he went up stairs 
to see his wife and Annette, whom he found still 
sleeping. 

“It is very hard to lose so many hours of your 
stay, but I cannot leave her to-night,” said his wife. 
“ Nurse is very good and trustworthy. She will do 
everything for Francis and the babe, and Bertha 
will take care of the German maiden. You will 
explain to Bertha, will you not?” she added anx- 
iously; “I fear she was much angered.” 

“ Bertha lets her zeal carry her too far,” replied 
the captain, “ and I fear she is as much mistaken as 
she is angered. But I have mu«h to say to you on 
this subject. It must wait until to-morrow, when I 
hope the little lassie will be better.” 

Then, as Elsa appeared in cloak and cap at the 
door of the room, he bade good-bye to his wife, 
promising to come early in the morning ; and, thank- 
ing his hosts for their kind hospitality, he and Elsa 
rode off homeward. 


CHAPTER IV. 


ELSA STEIN. 

IX/riSTRESS BERTHA was awaiting them, and, 
though she received them with remarkable 
statelinesss, her brother saw that she was in a state 
of no common excitement. He decided, however, 
that it was better to take no notice of anything that 
had passed, so he merely said, 

“ I waited till I could feel assured that the little 
maid was easier. I left her sleeping and her mother 
watching her slumbers. Master Listun and his wife 
kindly pressed us to sup with them ; so now, Bertha, 
I think that rest ig what Mistress Elsa needs most 
sorely. Margaret bade me commend her to your 
care.” 

Mistress Bertha immediately led the way to the 
little room that had been prepared for Elsa, and 
when she returned she was evidently much mollified 
by the retiring manners and modest gratitude of the 
young maiden. 

“What do you know of her, brother?” she ask- 
44 


OLD BRISTOL. 


45 


ed ; and she listened with great interest while Cap- 
tain Carthew told her all that he knew of Elsa’s 
story. 

“ She was born in Magdeburg about three years 
before the dreadful siege, when the city was sacked 
with such horrible cruelty. You remember, Bertha, 
it was before our father died.” 

“Well I remember,” replied Mistress Bertha. 
“ It was just nineteen years ago the tenth of last 
month ; and on that very day you were away at 
Thurlton Hall, which was gay with riot and frolic.” 

“ It was the day of Sir John Cortland’s marriage. 
I remember now,” replied the captain hastily. 

The truth was, that day was one of the rare occa- 
sions on which Mistress Bertha had not been able to 
restrain her brother. Margaret Elfrith lived in 
Thurlton manor-house, on the north coast of 
Devon, and there was a strong friendship between 
her and the Lady Mary, the bride of Sir John 
Cortland of Thurlton Hall. Lady Mary must 
needs have pretty Margaret to attend her to the 
church on her wedding-day, and that was enough to 
draw Roger Carthew from Bristol to the festivities, 
in spite of all his sister’s solemn warnings. 

“ While you were frolicking,” said Mistress Bertha, 
“ the devil, in the shape of that accursed popish gen- 
eral Tilly, was slaying God’s people with fire and 


46 


OLD BEISTOL. 


sword, and thirty thousand souls, men, women, and 
children, were launched into eternity.” 

“My frolicking consisted in looking on with a 
very uncertain and anxious heart at a gay pageant,” 
replied the captain ; “ and the next day won for me 
the best wife that it ever pleased God to give to 
man. But,” he added, “ it is an awful thought that 
at the very time when my life’s happiness was given 
to me such terrible misery fell on thousands ;” and 
he leaned his head on his hand with an expression 
of painful thought. 

“Well, you did not cause it,” said Mistress Bertha 
with less severity in her tone, “ though I did think 
you ought not to have been at such frivolous gather- 
ings. But your going did not harm the poor people 
in Germany.” 

“ It is one of the things that drive us to closer and 
more implicit faith in God,” said her brother, not 
heeding her interruption. “ All human understand- 
ing is dumb. God alone can explain his meaning in 
such awful calamities. But,” he continued, rousing 
himself, “ I must tell you what I know of the maiden. 
She is one of the few who escaped after that terrible 
siege. But her mother was killed ; and if she had 
any other relations, all trace of them is lost, for she 
was little more than a babe, and the fire swept every- 
thing away. She has a letter written by her father 


OLD BKI8TOL. 


47 


to her mother, and dated a few weeks before. Mas- 
ter Kiffin, who translated such parts as were legible, 
gathers from it that he was in the army of the King 
of Sweden, and expected soon to join his wife and 
child in Magdeburg.” 

Was he a Swede?” asked Mistress Bertha. 

“ That I cannot tell,” replied her brother. “ Elsa 
seems to think that he was English ; but she must 
be mistaken, for her name is German. The only 
person living to tell her anything about her family 
was one Lotta Bach, a little maid of ten or twelve 
years of age, who was with her when her mother 
was killed. Lotta remembered Elsa’s father, and 
she told the child that he spoke a language which 
she could not understand, and that she thought he 
was English. Lotta carried the poor little mother- 
less child to an aunt of hers, who took charge of her 
and brought her up in the Protestant religion. But 
when Lotta grew up she married a Roman Catholic, 
and on the death of the aunt, a short time ago, the 
priests tried their best to gain over Elsa by fair 
means or foul. She had earned a little money by 
lace-making ; and at last, to escape from them, she 
decided to come to England to seek her father.” 

“ Poor child !” exclaimed Mistress Bertha, whose 
sympathies were now thoroughly aroused. “ Broth- 
er, she must stay with us. She is really one of the 


48 


OLD BRISTOL. 


Lord’s orphans entrusted to our care. Her father 
must be dead, or in all these years he would surely 
have sought for her and found her.” 

‘‘ The clue is so slight that even if he were alive 
I do not see any way to discover him,” answered the 
captain. “ The letter I spoke of is all that she has, 
and the greater part of it is illegible. Her mother 
must have had it inside her bodice when she was 
struck by a shot. Elsa, though she was only three 
years old, can remember that woeful morning. She 
says her mother was running through the street car- 
rying her, and Lotta was running by her side, when 
suddenly she screamed and staggered. The maiden 
remembers her terror as she felt herself falling ; she 
remembers her mother’s face as she saw her lying on 
the ground and trying to thrust something wet and 
cold into the bodice of her little gown. It was this 
letter, which Mrs. Stein drew out stained with her 
blood. The aunt kept it carefully till Elsa was old 
enough to understand her sad story.” 

Mistress Bertha sat thoughtfully, with her eyes 
fixed on the polished oak floor ; then she looked up 
and said decidedly and practically, 

“ To-morrow I will go to Master Nicolls the dra- 
per and buy her sarsnet for a hood. She must 
not wear that outlandish peaked cap to be stared 
at.” 


OLD BRISTOL. 


49 


It was not Mistress Bertha’s way to make any 
show of feeling, but Captain Carthew understood 
that this meant that Elsa had a firm friend in his 
stern but warm-hearted sister. 

The next morning at an early hour the captain set 
out toward Lawford’s Gate, and on the way he 
overtook Dr. Griflfen, who was going to see his little 
patient. Annette had slept well, and the swelling 
had somewhat gone down, but her kuee was still very 
painful. The doctor said it had been very badly 
strained, and she must be kept perfectly quiet. 

The captain had to attend to some business-matters 
that morning. But Mistress Listun and kindly Dor- 
othy insisted that in the afternoon Mistress Carthew 
must leave Annette under their care, while she re- 
turned home to see the other children and to spend 
a few hours with her husband. His stay was very 
brief. On the following day he must leave and be- 
gin his journey back to London, and Mistress Car- 
thew had many things to talk over with him. There- 
fore, as Annette was doing well, she thankfully ac- 
cepted this arrangement. 

“ I have appointed to meet Hugh at the Tolzey,” 
said the captain as he left, “ and I must go to the 
ship-wharf with Dick Bardin ; but I shall be home 
punctually at noon.” 

The morning sun was shining brightly as he walked 
5 D 


50 


OLD BRISTOL. 


back into tbe city, and many friends stopped him to 
exchange greetings and ask for the latest news from 
London. Near the High Cross, which stood at the 
meeting of the four central streets — High Street and 
Broad Street running north and south, and Corn and 
AVine Streets running east and west — Captain Car- 
thew met Mistress Hazzard, who stopped him to in- 
quire for Annette and to renew her friendly offers of 
aid. He was now close to the Tolzey, which was an 
arched colonnade on Corn Street, where the magis- 
trates sat to hear cases and where merchants congre- 
gated to do business. As he was talking he saw the 
figure of Hugh in the distance entering the archway, 
and with a few more \vords to Mistress Hazzard he 
hastened on to keep his appointment. 

Under the colonnade of the Tolzey stood four low 
bronze pillars — or nailes, as they w’ere eommonly called 
— which were in constant use as money-tables, since 
buying and selling were chiefly for ready money paid 
down upon the naile. These nailes had been given 
by different persons, and all bore inscriptions with 
the names of the donors and the date. Two of them 
bore also texts of Scripture. One of the oldest had 
been given by Master Kobert Kitchin, who had been 
mayor and alderman of the city in the latter part of 
preceding century; and one was a thank-oflering 
from Master Nicholas Crisp of London in remem- 


OLD BRISTOL. 


51 


brance of God’s mercy in A. d. 1625, when the 
plague raged in that city. The fourth was the gift 
of Mr. White, a merchant of the city, and bore the 
inscription : “ A. D. 1631. This is the guift of Mr. 
White of Bristoll, merchant, brother unto Dr. Thom- 
as White, a famous benefactor to this citie.” Six 
lines in verse and a shield with armorial bearings 
were engraven on the surface of the table, and on 
the edge below the surface were the words, “The 
churche of the livinge God is the pillar and ground 
of the truth. So was the work of the pillars fin- 
ished.” 

Near this last pillar Captain Carthew found his 
cousin. Master Hugh Middleton was a quiet young 
man of grave demeanor. His light gray eyes, some- 
what lacking in expression, did not lead one to ex- 
pect much from him in the way of intelligence, but 
Captain Carthew often remarked laughingly that 
Master Hugh was brighter than he looked ; and 
certainly he had a peculiar way of watching people 
without appeariug to notice them. He observed 
Captain Carthew approaching as soon as he came in 
sight, and quietly sweeping into a canvas bag some 
gold coins that a thin, anxious-looking man was 
counting down on the naile, he dismissed him with a 
few low-spoken words and turned to meet his cousin. 

“ Who was that poor man ?” asked Captain Car- 


52 


OLD BEISTOL. 


thew as they walked away together. “ He looks as 
though he had lost his last friend or his last penny.” 

“Yes,” said Hugh, “he has been unfortunate. 
He lost everything during the troubles, and seemed 
much in need of aid, so I lent him a little money to 
set him up in trade again.” 

“Humph!” said the captain thoughtfully; “I 
don’t much like the money-lending business, Hugh. 
I would rather give a man a small sum than lend 
him a larger one.” 

“I knew your opinions on that point,” replied 
Hugh, “ so I lent him a little from my own savings, 
that you might run no risk.” 

“ He seems to be honest, for I see he has paid 
you,” said the captain, glancing at the bag Hugh 
carried. “ I think I ought to know that man’s 
face. Did he not at one time sail on the Dolphin ?” 

“I believe he did,” replied Hugh, who did not 
seeln inclined to pursue the subject ; but the captain 
was interested, and continued : 

“ I thought I was not mistaken. He was an in- 
dustrious, honest sailor, left the sea on account of 
his wife’s health, and was doing well in the little 
shop he had set up. Poor Gibbs I I am sorry he 
has been unfortunate. We must give him some 
help, Hugh. He looks as though his troubles were 
not over.” 


OLD BKISTOL. 


53 


“ You are very kind, Cousin Koger,” replied Hugh 
with a slight cough of embarrassment, “but I re- 
gret to say there have been some losses lately. Not 
very considerable, but the Dolphin’s last cargo was 
damaged by bad weather at sea. Perhaps it would 
be better to defer carrying out your kind inten- 
tions.” 

Captain Carthew raised his eyebrows with an ex- 
pression of dismay, but, as they were now close to 
the warehouse, they entered and were soon engaged 
in details concerning the business. Afterward they 
went down to the wharf to inspect the Dolphin, 
which was to sail on the following day. Captain 
Carthew had not, however, forgotten poor Gibbs, 
and as they were leaving the vessel he took out his 
purse, and, handing several gold coins to Hugh, he 
said, 

“ It is all that I can do for him at present, but do 
not forget to give the poor fellow more help when 
you can, Hugh. You know, cousin,” he added, “ I 
shall probably see more fighting before my next 
visit to Bristol, and the result for me none but God 
can foresee. I am thankful that I can leave the in- 
terests of my children in trustworthy hands. The 
losses are not of great importance, but you will be 
careful, Hugh. Money enough to keep my family 
in comfort, and every penny honestly gained, is all 


64 


OLD BRISTOL. 


that I wish for. And I can trust you for this, 
Hugh, for you have proved yourself capable.” 

The young man bowed with a slightly deprecatory 
gesture, but Dick Bardin, who had overheard the 
words, looked anything but well pleased. 

“ You have too long a head for your young shoul- 
ders, Master Hugh Middleton,” he muttered as he 
watched the two figures walking away together. 

If Captain Carthew could have foreseen that only 
one of the smallest of the coins which he had given 
to Hugh for the old sailor would ever reach the hands 
of the one for whom they were intended, his opinion 
of his young cousin’s trustworthiness would probably 
have been very much shaken. 

Captain Carthew’s opportunities for quiet conver- 
sation that afternoon with his wife were very limited, 
but on one point Mrs. Carthew was determined to 
speak with him. That was on the subject of the 
christening of their little Avice, which had been so 
long postponed — at first in the hope that he could be 
present, but afterward because he wished it to be de- 
layed. 

“ I cannot tell, Margaret,” said the captain frank- 
ly. “ The command here,” and he laid his hand on 
the Bible, “ seems plain enough ; ‘Believe and be bap- 
tized.’ Our babe cannot understand or believe, and 
why should she be baptized, or, rather, sprinkled ?” 


OLD BRISTOL. 


55 


‘‘ jMr. Hazzard himself says that pouring and sprink- 
ling were only introduced for weakly infants, and 
that the church allows of immersion,” said his wife 
anxiously. May I ask him if he will immerse our 
darling babe ?” 

“ But the question, Margaret, is not what the church 
allows, but what the Bible, God’s word, commands,” 
replied her husband. “And until that is clear to my 
mind I would rather wait.” 

“ But it seems so strange and unnatural,” said his 
wife with a sigh. “ I cannot help thinking that I am 
doing a wrong to my child. Oh, that this dreary 
time were over ! Strange, new doctrines are spring- 
ing up on every side, and it is hard to tell what is 
right and what is wrong.” 

“ If we have gone astray, is it not always hard to 
get back to the right path ?” asked the captain. “ I 
cannot see the way of duty plainly myself yet, but I 
shall not drop the matter until I do. It seems to me 
that if we have been putting an invention of man in 
the place of one of God’s holy ordinances, we have 
been guilty of strange presumption. No, no, Mar- 
garet ; wait a little longer. When I return to Lon- 
don I will seek to talk over this matter more fully 
with Master William Kiffin. We have already 
touched on the subject, and I would fain hear more 
from him.” 


56 


OLD BEISTOL. 


To this Mrs. Carthew could not object. But she 
begged him to write as soon as possible after he had 
had more conversation with Master Kiffin, and she 
assured him that Mistress Bertha was sorely vexed 
about the matter. 

That evening, when Mrs. Carthew was about to 
leave the house to return to Master Listun’s, Dick 
Bardin appeared with a sweet posey for Annette. 
Captain Carthew, who intended to leave before sun- 
rise the next morning on his return to London, was 
going with his wife to spend the evening with An- 
nette. When the good-byes were said and good 
wishes exchanged there was no excuse to stay any 
longer, and Dick looked rather crestfallen, but when 
Mrs. Carthew said kindly, “ You must not sail with- 
out taking leave of Mistress Bertha ; you will find 
her in the wainscoted parlor with the German maid- 
en,” his face brightened up, and, expressing his ar- 
dent desire to pay his respects to Mistress Bertha, he 
went into the house. 


CHAPTEK V. 

CAPTAIN CARTHEW’S VISIT TO MASTER KIFFIN 

rriHE unsettled state of affairs in London when 
Captain Carthew left caused him to return with 
all possible speed. Leaving Bristol on Thursday, 
and stoppiog only for the necessary rest and refresh- 
ment for himself and his horse, he arrived late on 
Friday night at Staines, only sixteen miles from 
London. There he spent the night, but early the 
next morning he was up and away, catching the 
first yellow rays of the rising sun as he galloped 
across Hounslow Heath. 

It was still early when he passed the now disman- 
tled fort at Hyde Park Corner and rode into the 
courtyard of the Greyhound Inn. His morning 
ride had given him a good appetite, and, throwing 
his bridle to an hostler, he strode into the kitchen, 
whence issued a savory smell of fried bacon. 

“ Good-morning, captain,” cried a gruff* voice 
from the farther end of the low-raftered room ; and 
a tall, gaunt man came forward with outstretched 

57 


58 


OLD BRISTOL. 


hand. His iron-gray hair bristled fiercely around a 
face that was wrinkled and seamed with many a 
scar, and a formidable hooked nose added sternness 
to his countenance; but a sly twinkle visible at 
times in his deep-set gray eyes showed that not a 
little humor lurked behind the gruff exterior. 

“ Jack Stone ! I did not think to find you here 
at this early hour,’^ exclaimed the captain. 

“ Neither did I expect you,” answered Jack, 
“though I did not think you would be long away 
from London when there is so much work before 
us.” 

“ I have but just returned from Bristol, whither 
I went to take leave of my family,” replied the 
captain as he shook the dust from his clothes. 

Then, after a few words to the hostess, who was 
bending over the pots and pans on the fire, he 
followed Jack to a quiet corner of the room and 
said in a lower tone, 

“ We shall soon be marching northward, if I mis- 
take not.” 

“ Ay, and under a new general,” said Jack with 
a knowing wink. “ But come ! you must be hungry 
after your early ride, and I cannot let my breakfast 
grow cold. I trow hot breakfasts will not be plenty 
on the Scottish hills.” 

A tidy, rosy-cheeked damsel, in mob cap and big 


OLD BRISTOL. 


59 


white apron that completely covered her short linsey 
gown, was placing on the table another mug of ale 
and a fresh supply of bacon and eggs, to which 
Carthew and Stone applied themselves without 
delay. 

“ Now,” said the captain when he had somewhat 
taken the edge off his appetite, “ what has been done 
during my absence ? You speak of a new general ; 
has Fairfax resigned?” 

“Either he or his wife,” replied Jack with a 
shrug. “ He has scruples about attacking the Scots, 
he says ; but many believe that ’tis the Lady Fair- 
fax who will not let him fight his brethren of the 
Covenant.” 

“ Cromwell has long been the chief in all but the 
name,” said the captain thoughtfully, “ but little 
he cares for the name.” 

“ He has at least done all in his power to induce 
Fairfax to continue in command,” said Jack ; “ and 
when the people were thronging the streets to catch 
a glimpse of him as he entered the city, and shout- 
ing as though he were the king, he only said, ‘ There 
would be a greater crowd to see me hanged.’ ” 

“ Nay, nay !” cried the captain vehemently. “ The 
English people know too well what they owe to Crom- 
well ; and they delight to honor him, though he would 
keep quietly on his way, caring little whether he were 


60 


OLD BRISTOL. 


a foot-soldier or a kiog, if he could only serve his 
country.’^ 

“ Do you think that ?” said Jack. “ Well, we shall 
see. High-sounding titles and the praise of men are 
like this tobacco : at first they sicken you, but when 
once you grow used to them you cannot do without 
them.” As he spoke he took out a big pipe and be- 
gan in a leisurely manner to fill it. 

“ Cromwell has no such tastes,” said Captain Car- 
thew decidedly. “ I hope he will have this ofiice, for 
he is the man I would rather obey. Fairfax is too 
closely bound to one particular sect, and Cromwell 
has a wider mind and is more just in his judgment 
of men and their opinions.” 

“I don’t know much about that,” replied Jack, 
“ but he is a better general. I have not seen one 
that I would rather serve under since the days of the 
great Gustavus. It was a great victory we gained at 
Lutzen, that cost that noble king his life.” 

“ Were you in that battle?” asked the captain with 
interest. 

“ Ay, that I was. My first lessons in the art of war 
were learned in Germany, serving under the Swedish 
king against the popish emperor.” The old soldier’s 
eyes kindled as he continued: “Well I remember 
that day at Lutzen. The emperor’s troops, under 
Wallenstein, were drawn up on the plain early on the 


OLD BRISTOL. 


61 


morning of the 6th of November, and we stood to our 
arms long before daybreak ; but the fog was so thick 
that even when the morning dawned we could scarce 
see the length of our noses before us, and we had to 
wait till the sun could gain a little power to disperse 
the mist. The king came out in front of the army 
and kneeled down, and we all followed his example, 
as if we had been boys at our mothers’ side. The 
bands began to play a German hymn, and the men 
all joined in singing. I never heard a grander and 
more solemn sound. By noon the fog lifted a little 
and we could see the enemy, but red flames were 
shooting up in the direction of Lutzen. Wallenstein 
was too cunning to give us a chance to outflank him, 
and he had given orders that the town which was to 
our left should be burned. Then the word of com- 
mand rang along the ranks, and the fight began. I 
did not see much, for I was kept too busy to look 
about me. Our infantry had carried the enemy’s 
battery, and we were turning their guns on them- 
selves and chasing the cowardly rogues before us, 
when I heard the cry that Wallenstein, who had been 
in another part of the field, had come to the rescue. 
There seemed to be something more than human in 
that man. It seemed as though he could be every- 
where at the same time, and the mere sight of him 
would stop the wildest panic. The enemy rallied and 


62 


OLD BRISTOL. 


we were driven back ; but the king saw that some- 
thing was wrong, and I soon caught a glimpse of him 
galloping over the trenches toward us. There I lost 
sight of him as the ranks closed about me. Soon 
after there was a cry that the king was wounded ; but 
I did not believe it, though he was always too ready to 
risk his life wherever he thought there was danger to 
be met. We charged again, and I had come to close 
quarters with a villainous-looking Croat, when a horse 
spattered with blood and riderless dashed past me. It 
was the king’s charger : I knew it in a moment. My 
attention was diverted by this sight, and in an instant 
my Croat saw his advantage. He aimed a blow at 
me that brought me to the ground. I suppose he 
thought that I was settled, and left me there. In 
truth, my senses were pretty well scattered, and even 
when they began to come back to me, and I learned 
that the victory was ours, it was a sorry rejoicing, for 
I knew that the king was dead.” 

Jack sighed, and laying down his pipe walked to 
the window. He stood there, peering through the 
little leaded panes into the courtyard, until Captain 
Carthew followed and laid his hand on his shoulder. 

“ Well,” exclaimed Jack, turning suddenly, “ I was 
not killed then, though I did not care much in those 
days which way the balance turned. But here I am, 
and I hope to do good service in Scotland yet.” 


OLD BRISTOL. 


63 


“ I hope that we shall have a speedier and a hap- 
pier end to our fighting,” said Captain Carthew. 
“ Poor Germany has had such a long and bitter war 
that the whole country is now filled with ruins and 
graves. You must have been there at the time of 
the siege of Magdeburg; it took place shortly be- 
fore the battle of Lutzen.” 

“ What good will it do to talk of those old 
troubles now?” said Jack impatiently. “’Tis nigh 
upon twenty years since all that happened, and we 
have enough to do with the present.” Then, seizing 
his hat and pipe, he stalked out into the courtyard. 

Captain Carthew was not much surprised at this 
abrupt conclusion, for all who knew Jack Stone 
found him very odd in his manners. Sometimes it 
was almost impossible to get a word from him, and 
he would go about his duties in a savage fashion 
that warned his comrades not to interfere with him ; 
but at other times he seemed to thaw a little, and 
would relate many a strange adventure as they 
sat by the camp-fire. Even in his grulFest moods he 
was never known to do an unkind action, and his 
stock of anecdotes and his dry speeches made him 
always welcome in spite of his peculiarities. But 
none of his comrades knew anything definite con- 
cerning his life. If he had any relations, no one 
but himself knew it, for even in his most genial 


64 


OLD BRISTOL. 


moods he never spoke of them ; and he would have 
been a very bold or a very stupid man who dared to 
ask him any questions on that subject. 

But Captain Carthew had much to occupy his 
thoughts, and could not spend much time in wonder- 
ing at Jack’s peculiarities. Moreover, he was par- 
ticularly desirous to pay an early visit to Mr. Kiffin. 

Leaving his horse at the inn, he pursued his way 
on foot into the city, where all the friends whom- he 
met confirmed him in his belief that before another 
week had passed the army would be on its way to 
Scotland. His business in the city was quickly fin- 
ished, and he turned his steps westward in the direc- 
tion of Whitehall. Passing along the Strand, which 
was lined on the south side with fine houses, and gar- 
dens that sloped down to the brink of the Thames, 
he came to the site of Charing Cross ; but the cross it- 
self had been pulled down three years before by order 
of the House of Commons, and the larger stones now 
formed part of the pavement in front of Whitehall. 
Turning southward, and still following the course of 
the river, which makes a bend here, he came to the 
Cockpit, or the Whitehall Theatre, which stood at 
the end of the parade opposite the palace. Just be- 
yond this building, which was now no longer used as 
a theatre, stood the house of the rich merchant whom 
Captain Carthew had come to seek. 


OLD BRISTOL. 


65 


The door was opened to him by a servant, who 
led the way to an anteroom, where he requested the 
captain to wait, as his master was at that moment 
engaged ; but very few minutes had passed when a 
door at the farther end of the room opened and Mr. 
KitSn himself entered. 

“ I thought I heard your voice. Captain Carthew,’’ 
he said, “ and you are particularly welcome at this 
moment, for a lady has come to me in distress, and 
perhaps you can give her more assistance than I. 
Do you remember the Lady Cortland of Thurlton 
Hall r 

That do I well !” replied Carthew. “ She was 
an intimate friend of my wife in former years, and 
many a happy day I have spent at Thurlton Hall, 
and many a wild ride I had with her husband. Sir 
John Cortland, before the wars separated us.” 

“ Now, I believe that you can do the lady a ser- 
vice,” said Mr. Kiffin. “ She is in sore trouble con- 
cerning her son. But follow me, I pray you, for we 
must no longer keep her waiting.” 

With these words he led the way into a small 
inner room, where a lady was seated beside a large 
table, on which Mr. Kiffin’s books and writing-mate- 
rials were spread. She rose and hastily brushed 
away the traces of.icars from her cheeks as Captain 
Carthew entered. 

6 * 


E 


66 


OLD BRISTOL. 


“You will wonder, Master Carthew,” she began 
with a little embarrassment, “that after all that has 
happened I should trouble you.” 

“Pray do not think,” said the captain eagerly, 
“that these sad contests have made any difference 
in my feelings toward my friends. Margaret and 
I regret deeply the estrangement that these troublous 
times have caused, and if I can do aught for you. 
Lady Cortland, I will gladly render any service that 
is consistent with my duty.” 

“ You still hold to your grave error, for that is the 
mildest term that one who is loyal to her king can 
make use of?” said the lady, flushing slightly. “ But 
it is not of these unhappy differences that I would 
speak now,” she continued hastily. “Have you 
heard that my eldest son has gone to France a few 
months since?” 

“I was not aware of it,” replied the captain. 
“Has he then joined the son of the late king?” 

“ Yes,” exclaimed the Lady Cortland. “ Do not, 
I pray, misunderstand me. He has gone to fight 
for his king, and may God prosper the good cause ! 
It is not that which distresses me, but he has gone 
with one whose character is very different from what 
I should choose my boy’s to be. Perhaps you re- 
member Philip Granby, my husband’s cousin ? He 
was a wild youth, and my husband never liked him. 


OLD BRISTOL. 


67 


but we could not refuse him help when our army 
was defeated. Little we thought when we gave him 
shelter in our house after the battle of Preston that 
he would entice away our boy.” She stopped, for 
her lips were quivering with emotion. 

“ Did your son leave without his father’s consent ?” 
asked the captain. 

“ We could not consent; he was too young. Wal- 
ter is but juskseventeen now. I begged that he would 
at least keep away from that wicked man, but it was 
of no use. One morning they were both gone, and 
from that day, though it is six months since, I have 
only heard from him once, and I know not where he 
is.” She stopped to brush away the tears that were 
again gathering in her eyes. 

“ Is it at all probable that he has crossed to Scot- 
land with young Charles?” asked the captain. 

“ That is what we think,” said the lady eagerly ; 
“and if I could send him a letter I think that I 
could induce him to return.” 

As she spoke she took up a sealed packet that lay 
on the table beside her, but Captain Carthew drew 
back. 

“I could not undertake to send a sealed letter 
into the enemy’s camp,” he said, shaking his 
head. 

“ I can assure you it contains nothing but news of 


68 


OLD BRISTOL. 


the family and other private matters,” exclaimed 
the lady hastily. 

“ I do not doubt that,” replied Carthew, “ but it 
would be almost impossible for me to deliver it, and 
I cannot risk the attempt. But,” he added, as he 
saw the look of disappointment on the Lady Cort- 
land’s face, “ I will do what I can to find out if the 
lad is in Scotland, and you may trust me to do him 
a good turn if it is possible.” 

The lady saw that it was useless to argue the mat- 
ter, and, laying the letter on the table again, she 
drew a ring containing a small ruby from her fin- 
ger. 

“ If you should see him, pray give him this from 
me,” she said. “And oh urge him to come home! 
His father will forgive him, though he was sorely 
angered at his disobedience, but this suspense and 
anxiety is terrible.” 

She rose, as if fearing to trust herself to say more, 
and laying the jewel in Captain Carthew’s hand, she 
turned toward the door of the anteroom. Mr. Kif- 
fin, who had withdrawn quietly during the conversa- 
tion, now came forward to escort her to her carriage, 
but before leaving the room she turned back to say 
with a faint smile, 

“ I shall leave London next week. Do you think 
that Margaret could find a welcome for me if I stop 


OLD BRISTOL. 


69 


in Bristol ? It seems very long since I have seen her 
sweet face.” 

“ That she would,” replied the captain heartily. 
“ Nothing could give her more pleasure.” 

“ Then I will spend a day with her,” replied the 
Lady Cortland. “ But you must come to see me 
again before I leave. I am staying wdth my two lit- 
tle ones at my Lady Durborow’s, in Drury Lane. If 
you have any message for Margaret I will gladly 
take it.” 

Captain Carthew thanked her, and as she left the 
I’oom he put the ring carefully in his pocket-book 
and sat down to think over this unexpected meeting. 
An open Bible, which lay beside the business-papers 
on Master Kiffin’s table, soon brought back his 
thoughts to the object of his visit, and he was bend- 
ing over the sacred pages wLen Master Kiffin re-en- 
tered the room. 

“ You are well employed, Carthew,” he said with 
a pleasant smile as he seated himself in his large 
chair. 

“ It is an employment that has occupied much of 
my time since I last conversed with you,” replied the 
captain. “The question of baptism that you put 
before me then has been causing me much de- 
bate.” 

“ I am glad to hear it,” replied Mr. Kiffin. “ I 


70 


OLD BRISTOL. 


would that every one could be roused to debate the 
question honestly and fairly.” 

“ My trouble is,” continued the captain, “ that I 
have but little time to read the books that bear on 
this subject.” 

“But I think,” urged Mr. Kiffin, “ that there is 
only one book that treats of this subject with any 
authority. Dr. Featley undertook to give three argu- 
ments for infant baptism : First, from the Scriptures ; 
second, from the consent of the universal church; 
and third, from evident reason. But he was unable 
to produce the first, and of what account are the 
other two? If the command to baptize infants is 
given by Christ, it needs not to be propped by the 
consent of the church or by man’s reason; and if 
it is not given by Christ, all the props that man can 
devise will not support it.” 

“That is true,” replied the. captain. “Then you 
bring it all down to the one question, What does 
the Bible say?” 

“Well, what do you find that the Bible says?” 
asked Mr. Kiffin. 

“ There are some instances of baptism in which it 
seems as though children might have been included,” 
said the captain doubtfully. “The jailer at Phi- 
lippi was baptized with his whole household, and 
there are other instances such as that.” 


OLD BRISTOL. 


71 


“ When we have before us the distinct command 
given by our Lord to baptize all who believe on his 
name, do you think that we ought to give ourselves 
a great deal of trouble to make a contradiction to 
it?” asked Mr. Kiffin. “ We are not told that there 
were infants in any of those households.” 

“ No,” replied Captain Carthew ; “ you are right. 
The command is very plain : ^ Believe and be bap- 
tized;’ and an unconscious babe cannot believe.” 

He then went on to tell Mr. Kiffin of his wife’s 
trouble concerning the christening of their child. 

“ It goes sorely against all my wife’s established 
opinions,” he said, “but sprinkling an unconscious 
babe seems to me to go still more sorely against the 
direct command of our Saviour.” 

“ If we begin to put old-established customs in the 
place of the word of God, where shall we stop?” 
asked Mr. Kiffin. “All the abuses of the Komish 
Church can be supported on the plea of long-estab- 
lished customs and opinions.” 

“ I see that plainly,” replied the captain ; “ and 
I feel no longer any doubt on that point, but there 
is now another question that has arisen in my mind. 
The sprinkling that I received as a babe did not 
make me a member of the church of Christ, and I 
do not feel that I have the right again to approach 
the Lord’s Table until I have followed implicitly his 


72 


OLD BRISTOL. 


commands. I wish to be his follower outwardly as 
well as inwardly, and -if the arrangement can be 
made without unseemly haste, I would gladly be 
baptized in the manner that I believe our Lord com- 
manded — by immersion. We shall probably march 
northward very shortly. But can you do this so 
that I may feel myself in fellowship with the follow- 
ers of Christ here before I go to encounter the 
dangers of another campaign?” 

Mr. Kiffin had known Captain Carthew long 
enough to feel no hesitation in promising to do as 
he desired, and the captain took leave of his kind 
friend and returned to the inn to begin a letter to 
his wife. This letter, however, was not finished for 
several days, for Captain Carthew found that, owing 
to the indisposition of her little daughter, the Lady 
Cortland intended to remain a few days longer in 
London. Mr. KifiSn had made arrangements that 
his baptism should take place on the Sunday a week 
after his return to Loudon ; so he added a few lines 
to his letter on the evening of that day, and the fol- 
lowing morning he carried it to the Lady Cortland 
and bade her farewell. 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE BATTLE OF DUNBAR. 

TT was well for Mrs. Carthew that her time and 
thoughts were fully occupied with the care of 
Annette, for weeks of anxious suspense were now 
beginning for her. 

On the 26th of June, Cromwell was appointed 
captain-general of the army, and three days later 
he was on his march northward with sixteen thou- 
sand men to check the advance of young Charles in 
Scotland. But it was nearly a month before this 
army set foot on Scottish soil, and the time was well 
employed by the Scotch general, Lesley. He gave 
orders that all the crops throughout the counties of 
Merse and the Lothians should be gathered in, and 
that the farmers, with all their cattle and provisions, 
should join his army in Edinburgh. 

This was quickly carried out ; and when, on July 
22d, Cromwell marched through Berwick-on-Tweed, 
he found that all prospect of supplying his army 
from the surrounding country was cut off. There 
7 73 


74 


OLD BRISTOL. 


was nothiag to be done but to keep near the sea- 
coast and to draw provisions from the small fleet 
that accompanied the army. But this supply was 
very scanty, and when they reached Dunbar, where 
the ships were to anchor, the army could draw only 
a small pittance to provide for the march to Edin- 
burgh. But they pressed forward to Musselburgh, 
which they reached on the 29th. Here the Scottish 
army was entrenched between Leith and Calton 
Hill, and a sharp skirmish ensued as soon as the 
English appeared. But little was gained on either 
side, and the two armies lay watching each other 
for a time. 

“If the cowardly fellows would come out in a 
fair field, we would soon show them what fighting 
means,” growled Jack Stone one morning as he sat 
munching a very dry piece of bread. “ They mean 
to starve us out.” 

“ I don’t wonder that Lesley will not try his raw, 
untrained Scotch troops against Cromwell’s men,” 
said Captain Carthew, who stood near him ; “ but if 
we do not get more provisions our men cannot stand 
this.” 

“ They say their fine young king gives them plenty 
of trouble,” put in another soldier. “ He gets ser- 
mons and reprimands by the score, but he does not 
improve.” 


OLD BRISTOL. 


75 


“ He has dash enough to make a leader,” added a 
fourth. “ That last sally which he led was a daring 
one, though he had only a handful of men and could 
do nothing but make a show.” 

“ Humph ! a show !” grunted Jack. “ It was near 
being a dear show for me.” 

“ Are you hurt, man ?” asked the captain, who no- 
ticed for the first time that Jack’s arm was in a 
sling. 

“Only a trifle,” answered Jack, “but the blow 
was aimed at my head, and if my arm had not 
caught it, it would have been a serious matter. I 
did not think the boy could have given such a 
stroke.” 

“Who? Did young Charles bear down upon 
you?” asked Carthew. 

“ No, it was one of the young gallants in his train. 
Cortland is his name,” replied Jack. 

“ Cortland ! How do you know ?” asked the cap- 
tain, suddenly remembering his interview at Mr. 
Kiffin’s house. 

“ Young Charles shouted to him : they kept near 
each other. Oh, he is one of the favorites just now,” 
growled Jack. “Expects an earldom, no doubt, 
when they march into London. But Cromwell is 
wide awake, as these pretty boys will soon find out.” 

“Ay, ay,” said Carthew absently as he walked 


76 


OLD BRISTOL. 


away to consider this piece of news. He had heard 
nothing of young Cortland up to this time, and he 
was inclined to hope that the lad was still in France. 
Now Jack’s words put him in perplexity. How to 
convey the ring and the message was the question ; 
but no way presented itself to his mind, and he had 
to wait. 

In a few days news came that the young king had 
left the Scottish camp. 

“ His light French manners ill suited the Presby- 
terian clergy,” said Jack Stone to Captain Carthew, 
who had stopped to inquire about his wounded 
arm. 

“Yes, they say they will have none but saints in 
their army,” answered Captain Carthew. 

“ They had better look out for a few soldiers that 
will not be afraid of an enemy,” growled Jack, gnaw- 
ing his moustache with impatience. “ They will not 
have a fair fight when we offer it. But a handful 
must come snapping and snarling at our heels, like 
the poodle dogs their fine king is so taken with ; and 
if a man turns on them they are off at a scamper to 
their safe cushions again.” 

“ You know my mind. Jack,” answered the cap- 
tain. “The better saint, the better soldier; but it 
does grieve me to see our fine fellows in this sorry 
plight. There is no doubt but that those Scotchmen 


OLD BRISTOL. 


77 


are trying to starve us out, and they are so well en- 
trenched and supplied that they have a good chance 
to succeed.” 

Captain Carthew was right, for after an advance 
toward Stirling, which only caused more ineffectual 
skirmishing, Cromwell was forced to order a re- 
treat. 

On the 31st of August the army left its quarters 
at Musselburgh, and began to retire eastward toward 
Dunbar. But when they reached that picturesque 
old town they found that their retreat southward was 
cut off, for Lesley followed them quickly with his 
army, and, encamping on the Lammermoor Hills in 
front of Dunbar, sent troops to take possession of the 
difficult pass of Cockburnspath, between Dunbar and 
Berwick-on-Tweed. 

Cromwell now found himself in a very dangerous 
position. Dunbar lies on a narrow point of land 
jutting out into the sea, and the old castle defends 
the town on the landward side. The distance across 
the little peninsula is only a mile, and a small army 
could easily defend itself here if well supplied with 
provisions ; but these were just what Cromwell lacked. 
His troops did not enter the town, but they took up 
a position at the foot of the old fortress. The line 
of the camp extended from the pretty little village 
of Belhaven, on Belhaven Bay, to the north, across 


78 


OLD BRISTOL, 


the peninsula, to Brockmouth House on the western 
sea-coast. Cromwell has made his head-quarters at 
Brockmouth House. It is only a short distance 
from the town of Dunbar and a mile and a half 
from Belhaven Bay. 

The ships are still anchored in the harbor, but all 
the provisions are gone, and as Captain Carthew 
goes through the camp he sees a sorry sight. The 
men are worn out and ill with hunger ; there is no 
food to be had ; behind them lies the sea, and before 
them is the Doon Hill and the whole range of Lam- 
mermoor swarming with the forces of the enemy. 
It was a complete trap, and on the morning of the 
2d of September Cromwell decided that he must 
send home the artillery and the infantry by sea, and 
himself try to break through the enemy’s lines with 
the cavalry. 

“ Is it true ?” asked Jack Stone, meeting Captain 
Carthew as he was making the morning inspection. 
“ Shall we have a chance at those fellows at last ?” 

“ Yes, I believe we shall,” replied the captain. 
“It is a desperate venture.” 

“ Ah, we will give the rogues a taste of English 
steel,” cried Jack; “anything is better than to die 
like rats in a hole. They say the Scots spend their 
time praying for revelations. There they sit like a 
cat at a mouse’s hole, but it will be a revelation to 


OLD BKISTOL. 


79 


them when they feel the mouse’s claws and he 
laughed grimly. 

Jack’s arm had healed, but privations and hard- 
ships had worn his gaunt figure till it was absolutely 
haggard. 

“ It will be a miracle if we get through,” said the 
captain. And as he spoke a vision rose before his 
mind of the steep streets and overhanging houses of 
Bristol, with the bright afternoon sunlight flooding 
the pointed gables and church-spires and gleaming 
through the delicate tracery of the cross at the top 
of the High Street. He wondered if Annette was 
able to walk now, and if the children and their 
mother w’ere going to spend the bright afternoon 
on the cliffs overhanging the Avon. Then followed 
thoughts of what would come to these dear ones and 
to all England if their hardly-earned liberty were 
now lost, and if Charles II., with all his profligate 
companions from the French court, were to bear 
rule in England. And there was a quiet decision in 
his tone, which showed no signs of flinching, as he 
said, 

“ We can but do our duty, and that, with the help 
of God, I will do. The result is in the hands of God ; 
he alone knows what is best.” 

Unconsciously, Captain Carthew was echoing the 
very words with which at that time Cromwell w^as 


80 


OLD BRISTOL. 


ending a letter to Sir Arthur Haselrig, Governor of 
Newcastle. In this letter the general described 
their desperate situation, and wrote, “Our lying 
here daily consumeth our men, who fall sick beyond 
imagination and he added the advice, “ What- 
ever becomes of us, it will be well for you to get 
what forces you can together.” Having finished 
this letter, Cromwell, with that coolness and com- 
posure which characterized him in time of dan- 
ger, went into the town to get some refreshment, 
and returned about four o’clock to Brockmouth 
House. 

In front of the house was a grassy glen about 
forty feet wide and as many deep, in the bottom of 
which ran a little stream called the Brock Burn. 
This stream, or burn, ran near the foot of the Boon 
Hill, and then emptied into the sea near Brockmouth 
House. 

Walking with Lambert and Monk, his generals, 
in the garden of Brockmouth House on that autumn 
afternoon, Cromwell could see the Scottish cavalry, 
that had come down from the hill in the early morn- 
ing, drawn up in the little space between the hill and 
the burn, and his own men ranged in battle-array on 
the opposite side of the Brock. 

But a new appearance soon attracted his attention. 
The Boon Hill was covered with a moving crowd, 


OLD BRISTOL. 


81 


and gazing intently through his glass he soon per- 
ceived that the whole army was descending into the 
plain. 

“The Lord has delivered them into our hand,” 
he exclaimed as soon as he saw that they were 
actually abandoning their impregnable position. 

The narrow space between the Brock and the 
Doon Hill was too cramped for the whole army, and 
the right wing moved out into open ground ; but no 
sooner had they exposed themselves than Cromwell 
directed his two generals to attack this wing with 
the whole force and drive it back upon the main 
body. Singing a psalm, Cromwell’s Ironsides ad- 
vanced, and the Scots were driven back before 
them. 

A dense gray mist had come sweeping in from the 
sea on the evening breeze, and the night closed in 
dark and wet, but Cromwell gave orders that his 
men should stand to their arms and be ready to 
begin a fresh attack before dawn. The Scottish 
army was lying without tents in the cornfields at 
the foot of Doon Hill. They found a scanty shelter 
under the corn-sheaves, but they had hard work to 
keep their firelocks dry, and all but two matches in 
each company were put out. Their overwhelming 
numbers, twenty thousand strong, were now a disad- 
vantage to them, huddled together as they were, 
F 


82 


OLD BRISTOL. 


while Cromweirs little army was all on the alert, 
and composed of men every one of whom knew his 
duty and was drilled to strict obedience. 

There was a pass over the Brock on the left, and 
at break of day Captain Carthew received orders to 
cross the burn with his company. Several regiments 
followed, and at six o’clock in the morning General 
Lambert joined them with his men, and the battle 
began in earnest. The Scots fought with wild en- 
thusiasm, and at first the English were driven 
back ; but the infantry, pressing forward with their 
pikes, broke through the Scottish cavalry, and as 
the gray, chilly dawn gave place to the full light 
of day a scene of the wildest rout and confusion 
reigned in the Scottish army. Out of the twenty 
thousand men, three thousand lay dead on the field 
and ten thousand were taken prisoners. 

Jack Stone had been one of the foremost in the 
advance against the enemy’s cavalry, but through 
all the conflict he had escaped without a scratch, 
and when the confusion of battle was over his first 
thought was of Captain Carthew. Soon, to his 
great relief, he saw the captain, and was hastening 
toward him when a riderless horse dashed past, 
and a groan and cry for help stopped him. 

“For God’s sake, help me, or I shall be trampled 
to death!” cried a ’voice a little distance off*; and 









J. I 


Tv 


-V 



^ • I • ^ • ' 





. Aj? i«ij 

f « «f -» . y 







■IP? 







4 . 




i *<-.^ 4 , -. ^ ■ , 

''•iKITM-i^' ■* 

iK» • ' 

^ I f » t ' ^ 9 

;. , - ■’* '1/- ' ■ ■ •; •Jil.'m 

/ij . ^.. 

t 




<U 


^V“ '^V , 


'J 




B ' ^ * ‘ 4 -^ • 



|A| 








V ♦ 



<1 






, -->rV 



•4 ■ 4 




1 • 




* ;‘v- .V; 

. .r ■ ■ 






1 ’.. 




•> 


-.••ii. ^ 




iS 


i-f 

V* 


't 


\ 



4 * '• 



-» ‘ 


**\*,' '' i,-*'^ ' 








Page 83 





OLD BRISTOL. 


83 


running forward, Jack saw a young Cavalier- pinned 
to the ground by the weight of his fallen horse. 

“Well, young ruffler, I owe you a good turn for 
cutting my arm instead of my head,” said Jack 
gruffly as he got a full view of the handsome, boy- 
ish face of the young man. He stooped to try to 
move the dying horse, and at that moment Captain 
Carthew came up. 

“ What is it. Jack ?” he said. 

“ Can we get this horse up, captain ?” said Jack in 
reply. “ The young fellow was mighty civil not to 
kill me before Edinburgh, so I don’t want to leave 
him here to be trampled on and he gave a grim 
laugh. 

“ Young Cortland !” cried the captain ; and calling 
to one of his men who was near, in a few minutes 
they released the young Cavalier’s leg. Then, tak- 
ing up the sword that lay on the ground, the captain 
said, holding it out to Jack, 

“ Will you make over your prisoner to me ? I 
know this young man.” 

Jack gave a ready assent, and Carthew, turning to 
the young Cavalier, said, 

“You are my prisoner, Walter Cortland. When 
your wound h^been dressed I will have speech with 
you.” 

The young man looked at his captor in surprise as 


84 


OLD BRISTOL. 


he heard his full name pronounced, but the pain in 
his crushed leg kept him silent, and the soldiers, in 
obedience to their captain’s orders, carried him away 
to a place of safety. 

It was late in the afternoon before Captain Car- 
thew found leisure to look after his prisoner, and 
even then he had very few moments to ^pare. He 
found young Cortland tolerably comfortable. The 
injury to his leg, though it would lay him up for 
some time, was not dangerous, and the young Cav- 
alier’s temper was in a worse state than his body. 
When Captain Carthew appeared he asked impa- 
tiently, with several oaths, what was to be done with 
him. 

First of all, young man,” said the captain stern- 
ly, “ bridle your tongue. Such language is not al- 
lowed in Cromwell’s camp.” 

‘‘Oh, I have had enough of psalm-singing and 
praying among those fanatical Scots. Hang them 
and their revelations, that got us into this plight !” 
cried Cortland. “Lesley would never have got us 
into this fool’s trap if those Scottish preachers had 
not vowed that the Lord had revealed to them that 
they were to win a battle, and they would listen to 
no reason.” 

Captain Carthew now understood the move that 
had puzzled him. He could not understand before 


OLD BRISTOL. 


85 


why an able general like Lesley should have made 
such a blunder, but he answered quietly, 

“ It is a psalm-singing and praying set that con- 
quered them.’^ 

“ Who are you ?” retorted the lad rudely. 

“ Your father’s friend, Roger Carthew,” replied 
the captain ; “ and I have a message for you.” 

He then gave him his mother’s message, and laid 
the ring in the young man’s hand. 

“ Well,” said Cortland, turning over the bauble un- 
easily in his jewelled fingers, “ you know best where 
I am going. I mean no offence to you, but what in- 
duced you to mix yourself up with this low rabble?” 

In answer Captain Carthew pointed to the scene 
from the opening of the tent in which Cortland lay. 
In the part of the camp that was visible the men 
W'ere preparing for the night. All moved with quiet 
and sober method. Now and then the notes of a 
hymn or psalm came borne on the evening breeze, 
but there was no sign of ribald merriment or of wild, 
fanatical enthusiasm. 

“ Do you call that a rabble?” he asked. 

The young man gave a discontented grunt. “They 
are good soldiers,” he said. “ It puzzles me how old 
Noll got such a sturdy, well-trained set. But you 
cannot relish being mixed up with Quakers and Ana- 
baptists, and all that fanatical lot.” 

8 


86 


OLD BRISTOL. 


“I am a Baptist myself,” said Carthew, ‘‘and I do 
not think you would find me fanatical.” 

A long, low whistle was all the answer Cortland 
made, and as Carthew turned to leave him he burst 
into a scornful laugh. 

The captain was glad that at this time he could 
not stay for any further words, for his indignation 
was roused by the young man’s rudeness ; but he 
was determined to do what he could to save the son 
of his old companion from the reckless course on 
which he had evidently started. 

The large number of prisoners was a great encum- 
brance to the small English army, and it was decided 
that half should be released, and the remaining four 
or five thousand shipped for Newcastle, to be sent 
ofi* to America or to such places as the governor. 
Sir Arthur Haselrig, might judge best. Cromwell 
always lent a willing ear to the requests of his offi- 
cers, and Captain Carthew determined to obtain per- 
mission for young Cortland to return home. His 
rude manners had somewhat softened after a severe 
reprimand from the captain, wffio felt strong hopes 
that if he were once separated from his bad compan- 
ions, he would lose much of his reckless wdldness. 

One little circumstance, however, gave Captain 
Carthew an unpleasant surprise. His servant came 
^0 him with the little ring which Lady Cortland had. 


OLD BEISTOL. 


87 


sent to her son, and told him that the young Cavalier 
had ordered him to sell it. The jewel was of no very 
great value, and in the bustle of departure the man 
said there was no prospect of getting the tenth part 
of what it was worth. Captain Carthew directed the 
man to take the ring back to its owner, and soon after 
he went himself to tell Walter that all his expenses 
should be provided for. But he could not help think- 
ing that the young Cavaliers were not like the old 
ones whom he had known in former days, or the 
young man would never have offered his mother’s 
keepsake for sale while there were jewels on his own 
hands. 

Before the English army marched to Edinburgh, 
Captain Carthew made his request to Cromwell, and 
by representing to him that Walter Cortland was a 
mere boy, not yet eighteen, who had run away against 
his parents’ wishes, he obtained permission that he 
should be sent from Newcastle to his father’s house. 


CHAPTER VII. 


MISTRESS CARTIIEW^S TALK WITH MISTRESS 
LISTEN. 

HE letter that Captain Carthew had written 



from London to his wife was longer than he 
had expected in reaching its destination. 

The Lady Cortland had brought with her a coun- 
try maid as tire-woman, but one of the men-servants 
in the house where she was staying was captivated 
with this young woman’s charms, and Polly herself 
was captivated with the charms of London. The 
morning before the day fixed for their departure she 
came to announce to her ladyship, with many blushes, 
that she expected to be married the next week, and 
she hoped that her ladyship would find a new tire- 
woman. 

This unexpected turn in affairs rather annoyed the 
Lady Mary, but there was nothing to be said against 
the young man, who was honest and respectable and 
had laid by enough to set up a little shop for him- 
self The friend with whom she was staying called 
it a most fortunate event. 


88 


OLD BRISTOL. 


89 


“ You know, dear Mary,” she said, “ that Polly, 
good soul ! knows no more about dressing hair than 
my little poodle. Now, I can get you a charming 
French tire- woman if you will wait a few days. 
Such lovely hair as yours ought not to be left to the 
skill of any milkmaid.” 

Lady Mary blushed, called her friend a foolish 
flatterer, and consented to stay a few days longer. 
The French paragon could not be found immediate- 
ly, and when found she could not be ready to leave 
London for some days. So it happened that Cap- 
tain Carthew had nearly reached Scotland before the 
Lady Cortland was ready to set out on her journey 
to Bristol. 

Meanwhile, Mrs. Carthew had many anxieties to 
occupy her mind. Mistress Bertha, as soon as she 
found that her brother’s arrival had not produced 
the result of fixing the day for the christening of 
the babe, determined to take matters into her own 
hands. She urged upon Mrs. Carthew that the 
child’s soul was endangered by the delay, and as to 
her brother’s scruples, she simply would not believe 
that he had any. 

“ It is a mistake, all a mistake, Margaret,” she re- 
plied. “ You were put about by Annette’s accident, 
poor child ! and you did not rightly understand him.” 

Mrs. Carthew, however, was firm, and insisted that 


90 


OLD BEISTOL. 


nothing must be done until her husband’s letter came 
to set all doubts at rest. 

Most of her time, both by day and by night, was 
spent at Master Listun’s. The broken rest began to 
show its effect in her pale face and listless move- 
ments. Elsa’s quick eyes perceived that she was 
wearing herself out, and one day, when Mistress 
Bertha had worn a little more than her usual air 
of dignified disapproval, the young maiden followed 
Mrs. Carthew, who had taken refuge in the nursery 
with her babe, and mustered courage to ask if she 
might that night sit up with Annette. Mrs. Carthew 
made a faint objection, but the look of relief that 
stole into her face and the tears that came unbidden 
to her eyes showed Elsa that her help was both wel- 
come and necessary. She begged that she might at 
least take a share in the nursing and watching ; and 
to this Mrs. Carthew consented. 

The principal thing was to keep Annette amused 
and quiet. The child meant to be patient, but lying 
still in bed made her fretful during the day and 
wakeful at night, and the strain upon her loving 
nurse was very great. Mistress Bertha was not at 
all pleased when she found that her protegee was 
going to the house of the Baptist family. She pri- 
vately determined to make another strong appeal to 
have Annette brought home, but she hoped that in 


OLD BEISTOL. 


91 


one night Elsa would not make acquaintance with 
any of the Listun family : perhaps, indeed, she might 
not see any of them. 

In this she was mistaken, for though Mrs. Carthew 
always declined any offers to sit up. Mistress Listun 
generally came into Annette’s room during the even- 
ing, and if the child was dozing and Mrs. Carthew 
seemed to wish for her company, she would sit and 
talk for a while. 

It happened that on the first evening that Elsa 
began her duties as assistant nurse Mistress Listun 
came in a little earlier than usual to inquire for An- 
nette, for she was heartily pleased to see the Ger- 
man maiden again, and hoped to hear something 
about her. Elsa too was pleased to see again her 
kind hostess, but she was just then making friends 
with Annette, and Mistress Listun was leaving the 
room when Mrs. Carthew asked her to sit down. 

Elsa’s busy fingers were at work at a stocking 
that she was knitting, and Annette was watching 
her. 

“ How fast you knit !” she said. “ Aunt Bertha 
was teaching me to knit before I hurt my knee, but 
she did not hold the needles like that.” 

“ How did she hold them ?” asked Elsa, smiling. 
“We always knit so^at home.” 

Annette began to explain, and she was soon laugh- 


92 


OLD BRISTOL. 


ing merrily as Elsa in broken English tried to ex- 
plain the German way of knitting. 

Mrs. Carthew, who had been talking on trivial 
subjects, seeing them thus occupied, turned to Mrs. 
Listun, and, dropping her voice a little, said, in a 
slightly embarrassed tone, 

“ Do you know Master William Kiffin of Lon- 
don r 

“ I have heard my husband speak of him,” 
answered Mistress Listun. “ He saw Master Kiffin 
when he went to London nine years ago to petition 
Parliament.” 

“Was it a petition about some public matter?” 
asked Mrs. Carthew. 

“ It was about the riot in the High Street,” said 
Mistress Listun. “Doubtless you remember it, for 
it happened near to your door.” 

“ I heard some report of it, but I was away at 
that time on a visit to my old home. Was not 
the riot caused by some religious meeting?” asked 
Mrs. Carthew. 

“ That is what the mayor said,” answered Mistress 
Listun. “ But our meeting caused the riot only in 
the same way that a bird’s nest causes mischievous 
boys to steal it. It was not our fault, though, 
of course, if there had been no meeting, there would 
have been no pretence for a riot.” 


OLD BRISTOL. 


93 


“ I did not hear much about it,” remarked Mrs. 
Carthew. “What is the true account?” 

Hitherto she had taken care to avoid all reference 
to religious matters, hut now she seemed desirous to 
induce Mistress Listun to talk about the very sub- 
jects on which they differed in opinion. Mistress 
Listun gladly welcomed the opportunity. 

“We had met together,” she said, “for prayer 
and to study the word of God in the house of one 
of our congregation. A mob of sailors and other 
ill-disposed people attacked us and broke the win- 
dows, and drove us out with foul abuse. Several of 
the congregation went to present a petition to the 
mayor for protection from further insult, but his 
worship imprisoned them, taking it as if we had 
made the trouble and riot. My husband could not 
stand such injustice, and he went up to London to 
lay our case before the Parliament. Many said that 
he would be put in prison for his boldness, and when 
he came back to Bristol they warned him not to let 
hinjself be seen in public places. But he had done 
no wrong and saw no reason to hide himself, so he 
went about his business as usual. One day, Avhile he 
was standing in the shop of his friend. Master 
Kichard Haynes, opposite the Tolzey, a sergeant 
came to bring him before the mayor, and Master 
Haynes thought it would fare ill with him. But the 


94 


OLD BRISTOL. 


Parliament had taken up our cause, and the mayor 
spoke in a very friendly way to him. He asked my 
husband why he went to London, and when he said 
plainly that it was to petition against his worship, 
the mayor replied only, ‘ You should have come to 
me first.’ My husband told him that some of our 
number had gone to him, and were only imprisoned 
for their pains. But he passed over that matter 
quietly and let my husband come home, for he dared 
not go against the Parliament. But I weary you 
with the story of our troubles.” 

Mrs. Carthew had listened with such interest to 
the narrative that she did not notice that Annette, 
who had soon tired of the knitting-lesson, was lying 
back on her pillow with closed eyes, while Elsa was 
listening intently to every word. 

“What had you done wrong?” Elsa asked as 
Mistress Listun paused. 

“ We would not go to the church to bow down to 
a crucifix and to hear God’s name mocked by men 
who read prayers that they did not mean, and who 
preached all kinds of wickedness,” said Mistress 
Listun. 

“ But is not this a Protestant country?” asked Elsa, 
bewildered. 

“You might well have asked that question in those 
days,” said Mistress Listun. “ It seemed at that time 


OLD BRISTOL. 


95 


as if people were trying how near they could get to 
the Romish Church without being actually Papists.” 

“ But,” interposed Mrs. Carthew, “ there were good 
men, like Mr.~ Matthew Hazzard, who preached the 
word of God truly, and would have none of these 
popish inventions. Why would you not hear him ?” 

The Bible teaches us, you know, that we must 
not only avoid wrong — we must also do right,” re- 
plied Mistress Listun. “We did for a time think 
that we could hold with those who sought to purify 
the Church of England. But when Mr. Canne came 
among us nine years ago he showed us our error.” 

“ I have heard of Mr. Canne. He is said to be a 
very good man,” said Mrs. Carthew. 

“That he is,” replied her hostess warmly. “As 
soon as Mistress Hazzard heard that he had come to 
Bristol she sent to the Dolphin Inn, where he was 
staying, and made him come to her own house. 
When it was known that he was a Baptist the doors 
of the church were locked against him, and he had 
to preach on the green at Westerleigh ; but Mistress 
Hazzard went to hear him and to learn all that she 
could from him, though many cruel things were said 
of her for this. Perhaps you have not read the 
book which Mr. Canne wrote? I will bring it to 
you; he left it with us.” 

She went out of the room, and soon returned and 


96 


OLD BRISTOL. 


put into Mrs. Carthew’s hand a little work called 
The Necessity of Separation. 

Mrs. Carthew took it and thanked her, but she did 
not resume the conversation. Her eyes looked so 
heavy that both Mistress Listun and Elsa begged her 
to lie down and sleep. 

A little cot had been placed in the room for her, 
and as Elsa promised to waken her the moment An- 
nette asked for her, she gladly laid herself down to 
take the much-needed rest. But first she placed the 
book on a little table that stood by Annette’s bed, 
intending to read in it later in the night while Elsa 
took her turn to sleep. 

Elsa placed the tinder-box by the candle in readi- 
ness to strike a light. But now, thinking that An- 
nette was asleep, she seated herself by the window to 
enjoy the long summer twilight. 

But all this time Annette was not asleep. Her 
quick ears had caught the conversation, though it 
was carried on in a low tone, and when it ceased she 
lay still turning over in her mind Mistress Listun’s 
words, “We must not only avoid wrong — we must 
also do right.” Annette could not decide exactly 
what this meant, but remembering that her mother 
had told her that little maidens should not ask too 
many questions, she kept her thoughts in her own 
mind. At last a little restless movement betrayed 


OLD BRISTOL. 97 

that she was not asleep, and in a moment Elsa was 
by her bedside. She smoothed and turned the hot 
pillow, and then, in answer to Annette’s weary sigh, 
she asked if she should sing a little German hymn. 
Annette readily agreed, and Elsa’s low, sweet voice 
soon soothed her to sleep. 

9 • G 


CHAPTER VIII. 


MISTRESS BERTHA GAINS HER POINT. 

TULSA’S first night of nursing proved very suc- 
cessful, for when Mrs. Carthew awakened in the 
early morning she found that Annette had slept 
better than usual, and that Elsa had already bathed 
and freshly bandaged her knee. 

“You ought to have roused me, my dear,” she 
said in gentle protest to Elsa. “ You have had no 
rest. You are well skilled in placing a bandage, I 
see.” 

“ I have had many wounds to bind,” replied Elsa 
simply, “and when the pestilence came I helped 
Aunt Siebel to nurse many.” 

“The pestilence?” cried Annette. “Is that the 
plague that father told me was so dreadful here 
twenty-five years ago?” 

“I do not know,” replied Elsa, “but the wars 
make almost everybody wounded or sick at home.” 

Mrs. Carthew shivered, for was not her husband 
even now preparing for war ? And though she did 
98 


OLD BRISTOL. 


99 


not doubt that the English would be victorious, who 
could tell what the sacrifice might be ? Elsa noticed 
and understood the involuntary contraction of Mrs. 
Carthew’s gentle face, and she quickly added, 

“ The dear Lord can bring the good out of the 
evil. See what friends he has given me ! I thank 
him every hour.” 

A knock at the door put a stop to the conversa- 
tion, but Elsa was pleased to see that Mrs. Carthew’s 
face had brightened. It was a pleasure to her to 
know that, whatever her own troubles and trials 
might be, she could still do good to this poor or- 
phan, and she went with a lighter heart to open the 
door. Mistress Listun stood without with a sealed 
packet in her hand. 

It is early to disturb you,” she said, “ but Mis- 
tress Bertha has sent this letter, which arrived late 
last night from London.” 

Mrs. Carthew took the package with an exclama- 
tion of pleasure, but a glance at the straggling writ- 
ing of the direction showed her that it was not from 
her husband. Turning it over, she saw the Cortland 
arms on the shield. 

The disappointment was so great that she laid it 
down and busied herself for a few minutes with An- 
nette before she opened it. When at last she took it 
up and broke the seal she had no little difficulty in 


100 


OLD BEISTOL. 


deciphering the contents, for writing and spelling 
had formed a very small part of Lady Mary’s edu- 
cation. 

The letter was written from an inn a few miles 
from London, and announced that Lady Mary had 
set out for Bristol, where she expected to arrive 
some time in the following week. Mrs. Carthew was 
pleased at the prospect of seeing her friend, but the 
best news was contained in the inevitable postscript : 

“ Your husband comitted to my care a pakett for 
you. My new tyre woman left my dressyng case the 
wich contaynes this pakett and I must wait hear till 
such tyme as the mesanger returns with it.” 

This was at once a relief and a disappointment, 
for Mrs. Carthew knew the Lady Mary travelled 
very slowly. She made frequent halts to rest and 
refresh herself, and her numerous boxes and the 
servants that attended her retarded greatly her prog- 
ress, even when her cumbrous coach was fairly set in 
motion. But the knowledge that a letter from her 
husband was really on the way to her was a great 
relief, and she now turned her thoughts to preparing 
for Lady Mary’s visit. 

It was necessary to inform Mistress Bertha of the 
expected visitor, and Mrs. Carthew looked forward 
to this with no little apprehension, for Lady Cort- 
land was not in Mistress Bertha’s good books. She 


OLD BRISTOL. 


101 


regarded the Cortland family as gay and worldly; 
but when, leaving Annette in Elsa’s care, Mrs. Car- 
thew went home that morning with the news, she 
was surprised to find that Mistress Bertha received it 
very graciously. 

Holding up a white frock that she was making, 
she said, 

“ Sister Margaret, it is the babe’s christening-robe. 
She has outgrown the one prepared for her, but you 
will never consent to show your child unbaptized to 
your friend. I will finish this robe before next Sab- 
bath Hay, and I will speak to the minister this after- 
noon.” 

This argument had much weight with Mrs. Car- 
thew. She very well knew that the Lady Mary 
would be shocked beyond measure to hear that the 
child had not been christened. She was in a state 
of wavering uncertainty. Her love and respect for 
her husband made her desire to wait; old associ- 
ations and the fear of what her friend might say 
urged her forward. At last she escaped the diffi- 
culty of deciding by saying that she could do noth- 
ing until she received her husband’s letter. 

“You need do nothing,” answered Mistress Ber- 
tha rather sharply. “ I will see the minister myself 
about it. And now, Margaret, I want to speak to 
you about Annette. If she is so much better, why 


102 


OLD BRISTOL. 


should she not come home? You are calling down 
on yourself and your children the judgments of the 
Almighty. At a time when your husband is going 
to risk his life in battle you encourage him to risk his 
immortal soul in vain and foolish questionings ; when 
your child is ill you leave her among pernicious folk ; 
and you even let the poor foreign lassie, the stranger 
in your gates, run the risk of being misguided ; and 
as for the wee innocent bairnie, you would let it grow 
up like a cat or a dog. I am ashamed of you, Mar- 
garet !” 

Mistress Bertha’s cap-frill quivered with the vehe- 
mence of her speech, and the Scotch accent that she 
unconsciously used showed how much she was excited. 

“ Surely, Sister Bertha, you would not wish me to 
disobey my husband?” said Mrs. Carthew, looking 
up piteously from the little frock which she was ex- 
amining. 

“ No,” replied Mistress Bertha, somewhat mollified 
by her sister’s evident distress ; “ since it is so, we 
must e’en wait. But at least you can bring Annette 
and Elsa home.” 

“ I think that Elsa belongs to the same sect as 
Master Listun and his wife,” replied Mrs. Carthew, 
hesitatingly. 

“ 1 would not say what ill the lassie has learned 
among those outlandish folk,” returned Mistress Ber- 


OLD BRISTOL. 


103 


tha cautiously ; “ but if there are weeds in her mind, 
at least we need not water them. It is a blessing 
that she is not a Papist outright, and she is douce 
and teachable.” • 

After a little more discourse Mrs. Carthew agreed 
to ask the doctor about the propriety of Annette’s 
removal when he came to make his daily visit, and 
promised to send Elsa home at once. But on return- 
ing to Master Listun’s with this intention, she found 
Elsa and Mistress Listun in earnest conversation, and 
Mr. Canne’s little book was lying on Elsa’s lap. 

Elsa rose eagerly to meet her, holding out the book 
and saying, 

“ It is written by my good friend Mr. Canne. He 
baptized me while I was in Amsterdam before I went 
on the ship for London. Mistress Listun says she will 
take me next Sunday to their meeting. The Bap- 
tists have a church here, and are not all hated as 
at home.” 

Mrs. Carthew was startled, and the thought of 
Mistress Bertha’s indignation flashed across her 
mind, but after a moment’s pause she answered, 

“ Elsa, you say you are a Baptist. I have heard 
many strange things of people calling themselves by 
that name in Germany. I fear it is the love of new 
things that leads many people astray, but I would 
not interfere with your belief.” 


104 


OLD BRISTOL. 


“Dear lady,” said Elsa eagerly, “it is not. new 
things that we seek. It is this old book that we try 
to follow and she drew out her little Bible from 
the bag that hung at her girdle. 

“We will not discuss the question,” said Mrs. 
Carthew. “ My husband strongly advocates perfect 
freedom on all questions of religion, and I do not 
wish to constrain you ; but I think that it would be 
better for you to say little on that subject before 
Mistress Bertha. She is very strongly opposed to 
these new doctrines, and it would be well to avoid 
exciting her displeasure.” 

Her tone showed plainly that she did not wish to 
have anything more said about the matter; and 
Elsa, who was very sensitive to the slightest rebuff, 
drew back, blushing painfully. 

Mistress Listun was much surprised to notice this 
change from the interest that Mistress Carthew had 
shown on the previous night, but made no comment, 
and after a few pleasant words about the improve- 
ment in Annette she soon left the room. 

When Doctor Griffen came he pronounced his 
patient much better, and Mistress Carthew immedi- 
ately began to speak of having her removed to her 
home. 

He looked grave and shook his head, but Mistress 
Carthew urged that Annette could be carried in a 


OLD BRISTOL. 


105 


litter with the greatest ease. She hoped in this way 
to appease Mistress Bertha and to put a stop to 
further talk about the christening; therefore she 
would not readily yield the point. Finally, the 
doctor said that if Annette passed another good 
night, and if every precaution was taken to avoid 
any jar to the injured knee, she might be taken 
home on the following day, since it seemed to be 
imperatively necessary. 

As Annette no longer complained of severe pain 
in her knee, her mother had begun to think the 
doctor unnecessarily careful about a mere sprain ; 
and as soon as this permission was given she sent 
Elsa home to request Mistress Bertha to make all 
needful preparations and to send a litter for the 
child the next morning. 


CHAPTER IX. 


A VISIT FROM THE LADY CORTLAND. 

IVriSTRESS CARTHEW had been married when 
she was very young, and had always been 
accustomed to depend much on the judgment of 
others. At home she had been thought too young 
to have any very decided opinions of her own, and 
since her marriage she had been content to take her 
husband’s opinion on all important questions, while 
in minor household matters Mistress Bertha was her 
oracle. Thus she very rarely had occasion to think 
for herself. When her husband assured her that 
England’s liberties were in danger under the late 
king, and spoke with enthusiasm of Cromwell, the 
country’s deliverer, she assented with a little sigh 
and an unexpressed wish that Mr. Cromwell had 
a title to his name, or that he was at least a little 
handsomer and a little more careful about his dress. 
And when at times Mistress Bertha entered the 
lists, and a warm debate ensued between the brother 
and sister on some political or religious question, she 


OLD BRISTOL. 


107 


would take refuge with her babes. In this question 
of the christening of the child she shrank from 
finding fault with her husband’s decision; but he 
was away, and Mistress Bertha was at home, and 
Mistress Bertha indignant was a very terrifying 
spectacle to her. Then, in her own mind, she had 
an impression that the Baptists were rather dreadful 
in some way. Exactly how she could not define, 
but she knew that a maid-servant in her father’s 
house had been sent away because she was a Baptist 
and because she had a squint in her eyes that caused 
her often to knock cups and plates off the table. 
Then the Baptists had something to do with the 
riots in the High Street; and, in short, until the 
last few months the name had always been connected 
in Mistress Carthew’s mind with something ugly or 
uncomfortable. When her husband began to feel an 
interest in them her ideas were somewhat altered, 
and she was very grateful for all the kindnesses 
shown to him by Mr. Kiffin, the pastor of the 
Baptist Church at Fisher’s Folly, during his illness 
in London. The Listuns also were very kind and 
pleasant ; none of them squinted, and they certainly 
did not appear at all riotous ; but the prospect of a 
visit from the Lady Cortland, whom she had not 
seen for nearly nine years, seemed to bring back a 
whiff from her youthful days, as the smell of a 


108 


OLD BRISTOL. 


flower will revive forgotten scenes. Very naturally, 
she was shocked and distressed to find herself slip- 
ping away from old traditions and prejudices. 

She could not go in opposition to her husband’s 
distinctly-expressed wish about the christening of 
their child, but she felt anxious to do all in her 
power to repair the other faults pointed out by Mis- 
tress Bertha. 

The next day, with a curious clashing of honest 
gratitude with the coolness of manner which she 
now thought she ought to maintain, Mistress Car- 
thew said good-bye to the Listun family, returning 
the unread book, and Annette was carried careful- 
ly home in a litter. She was welcomed by her aunt 
with solemn thanksgiving, as one rescued from great 
and impending danger. The removal certainly had 
the effect of turning Mistress Bertha’s thoughts, but 
in a way that neither she nor Mrs. Carthew had an- 
ticipated. 

Either from the excitement of returning home, or 
from the change during the warm weather from the 
breezy open space outside Lawford’s Gate to the nar- 
row High Street, Annette passed a very restless 
night, and when Doctor Grifien came the next morn- 
ing he found her in a high fever. He was in a very 
bad temper, and asked sharply why they were not 
content to let her stay where she was going on well. 


OLD BRISTOL. 


109 


“ She should have been brought home at once,” re- 
plied Mistress Bertha with much asperity. “ I told 
her mother that if she left the child with those mis- 
guided folk a judgment would be sure to follow.” 

“ Judgment, indeed !” quoth the doctor ; “ very lit- 
tle of that either you or her mother has shown. I 
hope the poor little wench will not have to pay dear- 
ly for it. This fever will seriously increase the trouble 
with the sprain ;” and he marched up stairs again, 
leaving Mistress Bertha too much alarmed to be 
angry. 

In the anxious days that followed she devoted her- 
self to Annette with untiring watchfulness, and her 
energy and common sense were a help and support 
to Mrs. Carthew, who was already worn out with 
nursing and little able to bear the additional 
strain. 

In the early part of the next week heavy showers 
of rain cooled the air, and Annette began to im- 
prove. The rain had another good effect, for it de- 
tained Lady Cortland a few days longer on her 
journey, and by the time she arrived in Bristol, 
Annette, though still very pale and weak, was pro- 
nounced by Doctor Griffen to be completely out of 
danger. 

As soon as the bustle of arrival was over and her 
guests were comfortably cared for, Mrs. Carthew be- 
10 


no 


OLD BRISTOL. 


gan to grow impatient for her letter, and soon Lady 
Mary herself came to her room with the longed-for 
packet. 

“ You are dying to read it, I know, my sweet,” she 
said gayly, “ and I must see to my children. My 
little Edith is often terrified in a strange room with- 
out her mother, and Kalph is a masterful little fellow, 
almost too old for his nurse, though he is only five. 
I must see your little Annette by and by ; I am 
deeply grieved for the darling child’s accident. 
Will you come for me in an hour ? It is a thick 
packet ; you cannot finish it in less than that time 
and with a merry glance at the letter she kissed her 
friend’s cheek and went away. 

Mrs. Carthew’s fingers trembled with eagerness as 
she broke the seal, and she was soon absorbed in the 
contents of the letter, but was greatly startled when 
she came to the last page : 

‘‘ I cannot tell you, my dear wife, the comfort and 
peace that this morning has brought to me. After 
all my doubts and questionings the way has been 
made plain before me, and this morning I was bap- 
tized by Mr. Kiffin.” 

She let the sheet fall, and sat for some time in a 
painfully bewildered state. At last, with a sigh, she 
took it up again and read slowly the concluding 
lines : 


OLD BEISTOL. 


Ill 


“ I know this may seem to some — to Bertha per- 
haps — a hasty step; but you, my dear Margaret, 
know how long and how deeply I have thought over 
this subject, and I think that you sympathize with 
me in my desire to learn and to follow the truth as 
taught by our Lord and Master.” 

A few tears rolled down her cheeks, but she wiped 
them away, and for almost the first time in her life 
set herself to think earnestly on what she ought to 
do. She saw that her husband had left her free to 
act as she thought right, and she was vexed with 
herself to find that, while he felt assured of her in- 
terest and sympathy, she had been swaying in such 
uncertainty, and had even allowed Bertha to find 
fault with him. Another thought also rose before 
her. Annette’s illness had kept Elsa in the house 
on the last Sunday, and Mrs. Carthew was conscious 
that she had actually felt relieved that Elsa could 
not go with Mistress Listun to the meeting in the 
Pithay. Now as she rose to go to her guest she 
mentally resolved that Avice should not be chris- 
tened, and also that she would in no way hinder Elsa 
from going to the meeting. 

But her way of forming a resolution diflered from 
her husband’s in a very important point. His reso- 
lutions were never taken until his Bible had been 
well searched and studied, and he whose will was 


112 


OLD BEISTOL. 


law to those under his control, and who was known 
throughout the army for his strong determination 
and inflexible courage, lived in habitual, constant 
dependence on the will of God, and never formed 
any resolution without adding in his heart, “ By the 
help of God.” His wife had not yet learned this 
lesson. She knew that she was weak, but she had 
not yet learned on whom to lean for strength. Her 
Bible lay, with her handsome church service, un- 
opened on the table beside her, and her thought as 
she left the room was, “ I have been childish and 
weak; I must now show courage and decision.” 

Annette was fascinated by the playful and affec- 
tionate manner of the Lady Mary, and the impul- 
sive lady warmly returned the devotion of the little 
girl. 

‘‘ Send the child to me, Margaret,” she said, as 
soon as she is able again to walk. Indeed, you must 
promise to send her to Thurlton. We will soon 
bring back the roses to her cheeks. Who is the 
quaint little German maiden that I saw in her 
room ?” 

Mrs. Carthew briefly related Elsa’s story, and the 
Lady Mary was enthusiastic. 

“ I wish I had seen her in London,” she cried ; “ I 
would much rather have her about me than that tire- 
some French Amelie, who is constantly forgetting 


OLD BRISTOL. 


113 


something. Let her come with me now, for my lit- 
tle Edith has taken a great fancy to her.” 

But Mrs. Carthew had no desire to lose Elsa, who 
with her cheerful ways and quiet thoughtfulness was 
becoming more and more necessary to Annette. She 
explained to her friend that her husband had con- 
fided the German maiden to her care, and she could 
do nothing with regard to her without his advice 
and consent. 

Lady Cortland was unwilling to give up her point 
without one more effort, for she had noticed with sur- 
prise and pleasure the influence which Elsa had over 
her children. She had completely won the hearts 
of the little Cortlands, and the spoiled children 
would often obey her when their half-distracted 
nurse could exercise no control over them. This 
time Lady Cortland spoke to Elsa herself, and asked 
her if she would like to come with her as governess 
to her children. Elsa was sorely distressed about the 
matter. She seemed no nearer to finding her father 
than when she left Germany, and she thought that 
perhaps she ought not to remain a burden on her 
kind friends ; but, on the other hand, the thought of 
leaving them almost broke her heart. Mrs. Carthew, 
however, settled the matter by absolutely refusing 
to listen to any proposal that she should leave them, 
and Elsa thankfully declined Lady Cortland’s oflfer. 

10* H 


114 


OLD BRISTOL. 


After the departure of their guests the days passed 
very quietly in the old house in the High Street. 
Annette gained strength slowly, and by the time 
that the news of the battle of Dunbar reached 
them she was able to sit up, but she was not yet 
able to put her foot to the ground, and most of her 
time was passed on a couch. 

Captain Carthew’s letter containing the account 
of the battle was read aloud by Mrs. Carthew to the 
family-circle, and was listened to with the deepest 
interest by ^11 ; but the passages relating to the 
meeting with Walter Cortland were passed over in 
silence by Mrs. Carthew. By her husband’s desire, 
however, she wrote to Lady Cortland, and toward 
the end of October she received a letter from her 
full of joyful gratitude, and announcing that her 
son had reached home in safety. Their quiet life 
then resumed its usual course. Elsa had begun to 
attend regularly the meetings in the Pith ay. Mis- 
tress Bertha at first protested angrily, but finding 
that Mrs. Carthew was decided on that point, and 
also in refusing to allow Avice to be christened, she 
had to content herself with pitying sighs over the 
babe and with lending Elsa a volume of the Gan- 
grcBna by Master Thomas Edwards, a noted Presby- 
terian divine — a book in which the Baptists were 
bitterly abused. But, notwithstanding Aunt Ber- 


OLD BRISTOL. 


115 


tlia’s fears and sighs, little Avice grew chubby and 
healthy ; and Elsa brought back Master Edwards’s 
book, saying that there were many long words in it 
that she could not understand, and that there seemed 
to be many bitter and unjust things said in it; and 
she added, 

“ I like much better to learn to read the English 
Bible that good Master Kiffin gave me. It is much 
easier, and I am sure it is all true.” 

She read a chapter from this Bible daily with An- 
nette, who was constantly picking up some German 
from Elsa, while she, in turn, helped her to learn 
English. 

Mistress Bertha’s mind was at this time much taken 
up with other matters. She was in the habit of going 
to hear Master Ingello, who had been appointed to 
preach at All Saints’ near the Tolzey, and the rest 
of the family went frequently to All Saints’, as it was 
too far to go often to St. Mary Kedcliffe, where Mr. 
Matthew Plazzard had been asked to preach after he 
was obliged to leave St. Nicholas’s Church. Master 
Ingello had been educated under the care of wor- 
thy Puritan divines at Cambridge, but he was now 
beginning to cause much dissatisfaction to his people 
by his fondness for musical parties and by the gayety 
of his dress. Mistress Bertha, in particular, was very 
much displeased with such frivolities. “It is four 


116 


OLD BRISTOL. 


musical parties that Master Ingello has been at this 
week,” she exclaimed one afternoon to her sister-in- 
law as she watched him passing up the street ; “ and 
see ! he has bought a new slashed satin doublet, more 
befitting a young court-rake than a sober, godly min- 
ister.” 

Even Mistress Carthew, who was not quite so strict 
as Mistress Bertha, could not but think that the 
jaunty little gentleman with the roll of music under 
his arm did not seem to feel the solemn responsibility 
of his ofiice. 

Soon after this they heard that some of the con- 
gregation had waited upon Master Ingello to repre- 
sent to him the evil that his conduct might cause, 
but he would not listen to any suggestions that might 
interfere with his love of music. 

‘‘Take away my music and you take away my 
life,” he answered to those who were expostulating 
with him. 

Mistress Bertha was very indignant when she heard 
of this reply, for to her mind music was an entirely 
unnecessary adjunct to the worship of God. 

“ He is better suited to lead a fiddling band than 
to teach the people of God,’’ she cried. “ I always 
said that this singing and playing was fitter for the 
stage and the play-actors that the Papist queen was 
so fond of than for the house of God.” 


OLD BRISTOL. 


117 


Mrs. Carthew knew her sister-in law too well to at- 
tempt any reply, but Annette, who beguiled many a 
tedious hour at the little spinnet, and who liked noth- 
ing better than to sing with Elsa some of her sweet 
old German hymns, interposed : 

“ Are we not told in the Bible that we ought to 
sing praises to God ? I thought that David played 
and sang.” 

“ And you would compare Master Ingello’s friv- 
olous music to the harp of King David !” said Mis- 
tress Bertha sharply as her spinning-wheel hummed 
under her energetic foot. 

“ No. I suppose King David only sang psalms,” 
replied Annette. “ But he did sing ; and you know. 
Aunt Bertha, that the Bible speaks of music in 
heaven.” 

“ Very likely we shall be allowed a great many 
things in heaven that would be only a snare to us 
while we are weak and sinful creatures on earth,” 
replied her aunt decidedly; and Annette did not 
ask any more questions. But her busy mind, which 
seemed to be trying to counterbalance by its activity 
her enforced physical incapacity, was not satisfied. 
AVith the help of a pair of crutches that she was 
now beginning to use she made her way to the 
window, where Elsa sat bending over a lace pillow 
that she held on her lap swung in a little frame ; and 


118 


OLD BRISTOL. 


when, after a while, her mother and aunt left the 
room, she asked, 

‘‘Do you think that it is wicked to love music, 
Elsa r 

“ No,” replied Elsa, “ not if we love it rightly, 
and make use of it in the way that always seems to 
me the most fitting — to praise God.” 

“ I know father says that General Cromwell loves 
his organ dearly,” said Annette musingly, “ but I do 
not think that he cares at all for what Aunt Bertha 
calls play-actors’ music.” 

“ Nor did our Luther,” replied Elsa, “ but no one 
could love music more than he did. He would 
sing with his whole heart our grand old German 
hymns.” 

“Oh, Elsa, sing with me now,” said Annette. 
“ It is growing too dark to work, but I can play 
Luther’s hymns.” 

She went on her crutches to the spinnet, and in 
a few moments the two voices joined in singing the 
favorite hymn of the old Reformer, “ Ein feste Burg 
ist unser Gott.” 

This ended their discussion, but the trouble about 
Master Ingello was not so easily settled, and the 
question of who should be his successor began to be 
seriously debated. 


CHAPTER X. 

THE BATTLE OF WORCESTER. 

T he spriug months passed away with no remark- 
able event to distinguish them. Letters from 
Scotland showed that little was done by the army, 
as violent storms of sleet and snow forced it to 
remain in Edinburgh during the winter; and even 
wLen the weather grew milder General Cromwell 
was unable to take the field, for he was weakened 
by severe attacks of ague. The hardships of this 
campaign and the severity of the climate had told 
so seriously on his health that in May he was danger- 
ously ill, and Parliament sent him permission to 
return home. But Cromwell was not the man to 
leave his work unfinished, and in June he was out 
again and vigorously continuing the campaign. 

The only events that broke the monotony of the 
quiet life of the family in Bristol were the letters 
from Captain Carthew and the return of the Dolphin 
and Dick Bardin. Dick was much disturbed to 
find Annette dependent on crutches, as he had no 

119 


120 


OLD BEISTOL. 


idea that her accident would prove so serious; but 
his frequent visits and bright, cheerful talk of the 
countries he had seen did much to make the days 
pass quickly for the child. During this voyage the 
Dolphin had gone as far north as Newfoundland to 
carry provisions and manufactures to the little 
colony that had been established there forty years 
before by Master John Guy of Bristol. Annette 
was much interested in hearing Dick’s account of 
this island, which, he told her, was larger than the 
whole of Ireland, but so bleak and wild that she 
would wonder how any one could leave the beauti- 
ful banks of the Avon to make a home amid those 
snow-laden forests and ice-bound streams. 

Annette had grown very skilful in walking with 
the aid of her crutches, but shyness kept her from 
venturing to walk in the streets. One day, however, 
Dick persuaded her to try to walk as far as the 
Castle, near which his mother lived. Elsa and 
Francis accompanied them, and the little party re- 
ceived a hearty welcome from Mrs. Bardin. It was 
the first time that Elsa had spoken with Mrs. Bardin, 
for Elsa always went to Mr. Hynam’s congregation 
in the Pithay, and Mrs. Bardin was a member of the 
church to which Mrs. Hazzard belonged. Five 
members of this congregation had separated from 
the Church of England shortly after Mr. Canne’s 


OLD BRISTOL. 


121 


visit to Bristol in 1639, and during the troubled 
years that followed many were added to this little 
band. Mr. Wroth — the Apostle of Wales, as he was 
called, because his saintly character was so highly 
esteemed by all who knew him — used to come over 
from his church at Llanvaches to preach to this little 
congregation in Bristol. Mr. Wroth died just be- 
fore the Civil Wars broke out, and the church of 
Llanvaches was forced to seek refuge in Bristol. The 
two churches then united under the pastoral care of 
Mr. Walter Cradock, who had been deprived of his 
license as a curate of the Church of England eigh- 
teen years before because he had incurred the dis- 
pleasure of the bishops. Since that time Mr. Cra- 
dock had been employed as an itinerant preacher in 
Wales, and he united with Mr. Wroth in the forma- 
tion of the Independent Church at Llanvaches. When 
Prince Rupert took the city of Bristol in 1643, this 
church was broken up, and many of the members 
fled to London, where they continued their meetings 
at Great Allhallows, and a few who had been bap- 
tized joined with Mr. Kiflin’s church in Fisher’s 
Folly. On the question of baptism they wer6 in a 
very unsettled state; and, indeed, so many disputed 
questions arose that when they returned to Bristol 
after the city was surrendered to Cromwell, in 1645, 
the church was in a very disordered condition. 

11 


122 


OLD BRISTOL. 


They eDtered then into a fresh covenant to keep 
close to the Holy Scripture and to the plain truths 
and ordinances of the gospel ; and as they were now 
without a pastor, they went on the Lord’s Day morn- 
ings to hear Mr. Ingello at All Saints’ Church, near 
the Tolzey, and in the afternoon met at the house 
of Mrs. Nethway in Lewin’s Mead. The teachings 
of Mr. Canne had not been entirely forgotten, and 
some of the church were convinced that the christen- 
ing of infants was un scriptural ; but this was all, as 
they were not willing to act upon their conviction. 

Mrs. Bardin was now as deeply interested as Mis- 
tress Bertha in the question of choosing a new pastor. 
She told Elsa that Mrs. Nethway had ridden over to 
Wales to hear Mr. Thomas Ewins preach at Llan- 
vaches. He had been formerly a mechanic, but his 
great earnestness and serious thought made him a 
powerful preacher. He was sent from London to 
the church at Llanvaches, where he was solemnly 
set apart to the work of the ministry. He was much 
beloved, and the people at Llanvaches were very un- 
willing to let him go. 

“ I wish, with all my heart, that we could get such 
a good man, but I fear we shall not succeed,” said 
Mrs. Bardin. “ My son does not care to hear Mr. 
Ingello, and he has been in the habit of going but 
rarely to church.” 


OLD BRISTOL. 


123 


“ I have seen him lately at our meeting at the 
Pithay,” said Elsa. 

‘‘Ay,” replied Mistress Bardin, “he speaks very 
highly of Mr. Hynam. I am very thankful that 
he takes an interest in going at all. I would gladly 
have him with me, hut a mother cannot always keep 
her son beside her ; and the main thing is, that he 
should be in the right path.” 

Elsa was much pleased to find that Mistress Bardin 
did not speak of the Baptists in the terms of severe 
disapproval that she was accustomed to hear from 
Mistress Bertha. When Mistress Bardin, who was 
delighted with the gentle, simple manners of the 
maiden, urged her in kindly tones to repeat her 
visit, she readily promised. 

But the second visit was long delayed, and Mis- 
tress Bertha began to accompany Annette in her 
walks, instead of Elsa. Dick did not appear to 
like the change at all, and Annette did not enjoy 
her walks as much ; for instead of lively stories of 
his travels Dick often entered into warm discussions 
with her aunt. Mistress Bertha did not approve at 
all of the proposed new minister. Mr. Ewins had 
not received an education at one of the universities, 
and that was, in Mistress Bertha’s opinion, indispen- 
sable to a minister of the gospel ; but he was much 
liked by many, and great eflbrts were being made to 


124 


OLD BKISTOL. 


obtain the consent of the church at Llanvaches that 
he should come to Bristol. 

One morning Dick brought the news that Master 
Dennis Hollister had persuaded the mayor, and the 
other commissioners who had been appointed by act 
of Parliament to attend to the maintenance of godly 
ministers in the city of Bristol, to send a letter to 
Mr. Ewins. This, together with the letter from the 
church, had induced the people of Llanvaches to 
consent that Mr. Ewins should go for a time to 
Bristol, where he appeared to be so much needed. 

Mistress Bertha was not the less determined in 
her disapproval because she found herself without 
support. Dick said that people were more inclined 
to ask what a man knew than where he had studied ; 
and another long argument began. 

“ I wish,” said Annette when she came home that 
day, “that you would go with us to-morrow, Elsa. 
I am sure that Dick likes much better talking to 
you than getting into these tiresome arguments with 
Aunt Bertha, when they make each other cross.” 

But, to Annette’s surprise, Elsa only turned away 
with a brilliant color in her cheeks, and the next 
day she was busier than ever in the house. 

At last, Mr. Ewins came, and, besides preaching at 
Christ Church on the Sunday mornings and at Mary- 
port on the Sunday afternoons, he was appointed City 


OLD BRISTOL. 


125 


Lecturer by the mayor, and delivered a sermon every 
Tuesday at St. Nicholas’s. Mistress Bertha was 
persuaded by Mistress Bardin to go to one of these 
Tuesday sermons, and she was so much interested 
that she began to attend them regularly, though she 
would no longer go on the Sunday mornings to 
Christ Church. 

But another and more alarming subject soon occu- 
pied the minds of all. 

One August morning Mistress Bertha returned 
from the market that was held around the High 
Cross with the startling tidings that Prince Charles 
was in England at the head of an army. The great- 
est consternation was felt as this news spread rapidly 
through the city, and every one asked eagerly where 
were Cromwell and his army. Report said that the 
young prince, tired of ineffectual skirmishes and 
manoeuvres, and wearied with the admonitions of 
the Scottish clergy and the restraints that they at- 
tempted to put upon his light behavior, had de- 
termined to make a bold stroke for the crown. 
While Cromwell was taking possession of Perth 
young Charles, with eleven thousand men under the 
command of General David Lesley, marched away 
from his quarters at Stirling toward the west of 
England. 

Even Mistress Bertha was alarmed now; for 
11 * 


126 


OLD BRISTOL. 


Charles Stuart under no other .control than hjs 
gay temper and surrounded by his light compan- 
ions was very different from Charles Stuart watched 
over and guarded by the Scottish presbyters. 

“ Your fine general has been caught napping this 
this time,” she remarked rather grimly to Dick Bar* 
din a few days later. 

“ Wait a little,” cried Dick. “ The young prince 
thought that he would enter England by way of 
Carlisle, and that he would be received with open 
arms, but Shrewsbury has shut her gates against 
him; and although he has been proclaimed King 
of England at the head of his army, very few have 
come to support his standard. AVe shall hear from 
Cromwell soon. The game is not yet played out, 
but I can foretell the end. I only wish that I could 
stay to see it, but the Dolphin sails on the last day 
of this month.” 

This last piece of news was received by Annette 
and Francis with very honest and outspoken regret, 
and they were almost provoked with Elsa for the in- 
difference she showed. 

Dick came very near seeing the end of the game, 
for the last move was made only three days after he 
sailed. 

As soon as Cromwell found that Charles had 
slipped away from him he despatched a letter to 


OLD BRISTOL. 


127 


the Parliament urging them to delay the march of 
the young prince until he could overtake him ; and 
he prepared to follow with all possible speed. Those 
who had been slow about sending recruits to Scot- 
land, and who had found fault with Cromwell’s man- 
agement of the army there, now hastily collected 
forces to check the advance of the Scottish army. 
Lambert and Harrison with cavalry troops opposed 
it at the crossing of the Mersey near Warrington, 
and when Cromwell, leaving six thousand men in 
Scotland under the command of General Monk, en- 
tered Yorkshire with the rest of his army, the mi- 
litia from all sides came to swell his force. 

Gn the 28th of August, Charles had pushed for- 
ward as ‘far as Worcester, but Cromwell was close on 
his heels with thirty thousand men. A week later 
the news of the great victory at Worcester, gained 
just one year from the day of the victory at Dun- 
bar, spread through the country. There was much 
rejoicing in Bristol when the news arrived, but 
through all the thanksgiving the family in the 
High Street was waiting in anxious suspense for 
news of the husband and father. 

On the same day that the tidings of the battle reached 
her an unexpected visitor was announced to Mrs. Car- 
thew. She was sitting with Annette and Elsa in the 
wainscoted parlor when young Walter Cortland was 


128 


OLD BKISTOL. 


ushered into the room. Mrs. Carthew had not seen 
him since he was a child, but the resemblance to his 
mother in his handsome face was enough to ensure 
him a warm welcome. As she rose to greet him he 
advanced with a bow that bore witness to his short 
residence in French society. 

“ I must crave pardon for my intrusion,” he said. 
“ I could not pass through Bristol without stopping 
to deliver a few of the messages with which my mother 
would have charged me had it been possible.” 

“ I trust that you bring no evil tidings from Thurl- 
ton Hall,” exclaimed Mrs. Carthew with anxiety. 
‘‘ The Lady Cortland is not ill ?” 

“ Heaven forbid that I should ever be the bearer 
of tidings that would cause such fair faces to be 
clouded by even a moment’s distress!” replied the 
young man, again bowing gallantly, while Annette’s 
sharp eyes detected a quick glance of admiration 
at Elsa. 

The tone of this speech did not please Mrs. Car- 
thew, and her manner was a little cold as she mo- 
tioned him to a chair, and seating herself re- 
plied, 

“Your mother’s son is always welcome. Master 
Cortland, but it is long since I have heard from 
her, and I hoped that you might be the bearer of 
a letter.” 


OLD BRISTOL. 


129 


“ In truth,” replied young Cortland, dropping his 
tone of compliment and speaking with some embar- 
rassment, but in more natural style, “"my mother 
would doubtless have written had she been aware 
of my intention to visit Bristol, but I was forced to 
leave home at short notice.” 

Mrs. Carthew had not forgotten the trouble caused 
by the young man’s previous escapade, and she quick- 
ly guessed that something was wrong, but she only 
said, 

“ My friend’s son must be my guest while in Bris- 
tol. — Elsa, see that the west room is prepared for 
Master Cortland.” 

Elsa laid down her lace pillow and left the room. 
Annette would willingly have remained, but she was 
obliged to defer gratifying her curiosity about the 
handsome young stranger, for her mother made a 
sign to her to follow Elsa. 

As soon as Walter was alone with Mrs. Carthew he 
put a stop to any questions by dashing at once into 
an explanation of his appearance. 

“ The truth is,” he exclaimed, “ that I could not 
stay cooped within four walls while the king was 
fighting for his throne; and whenever I spoke of 
joining him my father made some excuse about ur- 
gent business that he required me to attend to, or else 
my mother entreated me with tears to give up the 
I 


130 


OLD BRISTOL. 


thought. She knows well that when she weeps I 
cannot withstand her.” 

“ Then you left your home secretly, I suppose,” 
said Mrs. Carthew as he paused. “ Do you not 
think that your absence is already causing her to 
shed bitter tears?” 

The thought of tears shed when he did not see 
them did not seem to disturb the young man, and 
he only answered proudly, 

“ I could not stay in cowardly ease when the king 
marched into England and called on his friends to 
rally about him. I hastened to offer him my sword.” 

“Were you, then, in the battle?” inquired Mrs. 
Carthew eagerly. “ Can you give me tidings of my 
husband ?” 

“No,” replied the young Cavalier, reddening with 
annoyance. “ My mother delayed me and thwarted 
my plans until it was too late. The news of the 
battle met me as I arrived in Bristol this morning.” 

“ You will now, doubtless, return to Thurlton,” 
said Mrs. Carthew. “They say that the young 
prince has no chance left of gainiug footing in 
England. You must perforce give up a hopeless 
cause, and you will surely relieve the anxiety of 
your parents by a speedy return.” 

“ Nay,” replied Walter impatiently, “ I must try 
to get news of the ling.” 


OLD BKISTOL. 


131 


“ But they say that he is in hiding. Whither will 
you go ?” asked Mrs. Carthew. 

“I neither know nor care,” replied the young man, 
recklessly. 

Mrs. Carthew used all possible persuasions to in- 
duce him to return to Thurlton, but she could only 
obtain a reluctant promise that he would remain at 
least another day in Bristol. 

Walter’s first thought was that the prince would 
possibly make his way to Bristol, and there attempt 
to find passage on a vessel sailing to France. This 
idea made him willing to accept Mrs. Carthew’s in- 
vitation to remain with her. 

He spent the next morning in inspecting the ves- 
sels and in picking up news. Everything that he 
heard only confirmed the first tidings, that the young 
prince had suffered a total defeat and was forced to 
fly for his life; but, although Walter scanned care- 
fully every one whom he met on the wharf, and made 
many cautious inquiries about the passengers on ves- 
sels bound for France, he could learn nothing of the 
prince. 

His own real desire was to take passage to France, 
but he had not made this known to Mrs. Carthew, 
from the fear that he might be hindered in some 
way. After an unsuccessful search he returned to 
the house in the High Street, debating in his own 


132 


OLD BRISTOL. 


mind whether he should go to one of the southern 
ports or remain a little longer in Bristol. 

He found the Carthew family in sore trouble. 
Mrs. Carthew had received the tidings that her hus- 
band was lying severely wounded at Kidderminster. 
He had asked for his wife, and the surgeon wrote as 
gently as possible, but urging her to come with all 
possible speed. The letter was brought by an old 
servant of Captain Carthew’s who arrived that morn- 
ing, and Mrs. Carthew had already made all prepa- 
rations to set out for Kidderminster the same after- 
noon. 

Walter Cortland was much shocked by the news, 
for notwithstanding his recklessness he now remem- 
bered with gratitude Captain Carthew’s kindness to 
him when he was wounded and a prisoner after the 
battle of Dunbar. Giving up his vague plans of 
going to France, he offered his services as escort to 
Mrs. Carthew, and she gladly accepted the offer of 
additional protection, as the country was full of 
fugitives from the Scottish army. Besides this, she 
hoped that it would keep Walter from taking any 
rash step before his parents could learn where he 
was. She had already written a hasty letter to the 
Lady Cortland, which she entrusted to Master Hugh 
Middleton, requesting him to despatch it to Thurlton 
without delay. Then, as the afternoon shadows be- 


OLD BRISTOL. 


133 


gan to deepen in the narrow street, she rode away 
behind old Reuben. The children watched with 
wondering awe, but Francis was more occupied with 
the prancing horse of the young Cavalier than 
with the tearful glances that his mother sent back 
to the upper window at which they stood; and 
even Annette only half comprehended her aunt’s 
white face. 

12 


CHAPTER XL 

THE SAD JOURNEY TO KIDDERMINSTER. 

T hat ride to Kidderminster was ever afterward 
like the confused memory of a dream to Mrs. 
Carthew. It was not until they were actually pass- 
ing through the streets of the quiet little town that 
the reality of it all began to force itself upon her. 

“ That is where Master Baxter dwells,” said 
Reuben as they rode past a house where the case- 
ments stood open. “ He has done so much for the 
weavers here that they are all ready to follow his 
bidding in everything. He has medicine for both 
their souls and their bodies, but he does not want 
people to be cured by any physic but his own. He 
boasts that there is not a Quaker in all Kidder- 
minster, and although one journeyman shoemaker 
turned Baptist, he immediately left the town.” 

“I have heard of this Master Baxter,” replied 
Walter, a little scornfully; “they say that there is 
nothing but praying and psalm-singing to be heard 
here.” 


134 


OLD BRISTOL. 


135 


“ That is true on the Sundays,” answered Reuben, 
“and a godly town it is. Master Baxter’s code is 
a bit too narrow for me to squeeze into it, but, all the 
same, I can see the good that he has done in teaching 
the people to be honest and sober workmen during 
the week-days, and to spend the Sundays in godly 
service instead of in roystering games. — But here 
is the place where we are to stop.” 

As he spoke he drew up his horse before the step 
of a neat little house belonging to one of the wea- 
vers, for almost the entire population of the little 
town was formed of these men, who were engaged in 
the weaving of broadcloth and linsey-woolsey. 

The captain lay in a little room on a level with 
the street, just where he had been carried on the 
night that he was wounded, when the fugitives of 
the prince’s army, hasting for their lives from Wor- 
cester, had made their last stand in the Kidder- 
minster market-place. He was very weak from loss 
of blood, and it was considered dangerous to try to 
move him to an up-stairs room, so a cot had been 
hastily prepared for him there. 

Mrs. Carthew was met at the door by the surgeon, 
w’ho spoke a few words of caution and led her into 
the room. As she approached the bedside her hus- 
band’s eyes brightened and he tried to put out his 
hand. With a great effort at self-control she took 


136 


OLD BRISTOL. 


it in both her own and bent over him to catch his 
whispered words. 

“ It is the will of God, Margaret,” he said painful- 
ly, but with a bright look in his eyes. “ I thank 
him that he has let me see you once again.” 

These words seemed to bring clearly before her 
the dreadful fear that she had been fighting against 
all through the journey from Bristol ; but the watch- 
ful eyes of the surgeon noticed the sudden whiteness 
that spread over her face and the trembling of her 
lips. Laying his hand w^arniugly on her arm, he said 
cheerfully to the captain, “ Your wife is wearied with 
her journey. I shall order her ten minutes’ rest and 
a little refreshment ; then she will return to you.” 

Mrs. Carthew made no resistance, for she felt that 
her self-control was rapidly giving way, and, obey- 
ing a sign from the surgeon, she followed the wea- 
ver’s wife, who was waiting to ofifer her assistance. 

But the moments now were too precious to be 
wasted in tears, and soon she w^as again at her hus- 
band’s bedside. He seemed to be a little stronger, 
the surgeon said, and Mrs. Carthew caught eagerly 
at the gleam of hope. In truth, the arrival of his 
wife seemed to have revived him, and she had diffi- 
culty to prevent him from talking too much. AVhen 
he learned that Walter Cortland had come with her 
from Bristol he asked to see the young man, and it 


OLD BRISTOL. 


137 


was only by her persuasions that he was induced to 
defer this until the next day. 

During the night he slept at intervals, and when 
he roused he would ask his wife to read to him. The 
hundred and seventeenth Psalm, the one that they 
had sung on the battlefield of Dunbar, was often on 
his lips, but although he was cheerful he never spoke 
of recovery. 

The next day he insisted on seeing Walter, and 
Mrs. Carthew left them for a few minutes alone. 
She thought that her husband’s words would reach 
the young man’s heart more surely if he felt that he 
was the only listener, but she warned him that he 
must only stay for a very short time. Soon after- 
ward he came out of the room with an expression 
of concern and humility on his countenance very 
diflerent from the gay, reckless air that he general- 
ly wore, but as Mrs. Carthew came forward to meet 
him he tried to assume a careless tone. Glancing 
at a little sealed packet that he held in his hand, he 
said, 

“ Captain Carthew has asked me to carry a mes- 
sage to Bristol, but there is no need to set out before 
to-morrow morning. Can I take any message for 
you to Mistress Bertha?” 

“ You will return here ?” asked Mrs. Carthew anx- 
iously. 


138 


OLD BRISTOL. 


“ Oh yes,” he replied. “ I hope that I may be of 
service in helping to convey the captain home when 
he is a little stronger;” but he did not meet Mrs. 
Carthew’s eyes as he spoke, for he had heard the 
surgeon’s opinion. She was too anxious to return 
to her husband to think of the message, and she only 
thanked him and said that she would send him word 
in the morning. 

Through the afternoon the captain seemed very 
feverish, but toward evening the fever passed away 
and he talked much with his wife. 

I see more clearly than ever now, Margaret,” he 
said, “ and all the things that men prize and fight 
for seem of such small worth compared to the truth 
and freedom that God gives. Oh, my dear wife, 
above all things teach our children to seek the truth 
only in God’s word, and to hold it and teach it with 
love. How can we teach truth and charity if we do 
not have them in our own hearts and actions? Every 
time that we would put a chain on the conscience of 
our neighbor Satan fastens a chain about our own.” 

His voice grew weaker, and he lay for some time 
without speaking. The night fell and the weaver’s 
wife came and lighted a candle in the room, and went 
away again. Still, the captain seemed to sleep, and 
his anxious wife sat holding his hand and scarcely 
daring to breathe lest she should disturb him. At 


OLD BEISTOL. . 


139 


last he moved, and in the dim light she thought she 
saw his lips moving. Bending over him, she caught 
the sound of her own name, and then, low but dis- 
tinct, the last words of the Dunbar Psalm : 

‘‘ The truth of the Lord endureth for ever. Praise 
ye the Lord.” 

As the last word faltered on his'lips the brave sol- 
dier passed away from the mists and clouds of the 
earthly battlefield to the light of the perfect truth in 
the presence of his Great Captain. 


CHAPTER XIL 


ELSA GOES TO THURLTON HALL. 

S ometimes there comes into a quiet life a sud- ! 

den sorrow that casts a deep shadow over the , 

brightness, and before this shadow has passed away j 

all the old life is gone. It is like a man travelling ; 

for days through a pleasant, smiling country. Sud- ■ 

denly storm and darkness overtake him, but he must • 
pursue his way, and when the night of storm and j 

struggle is past the peaceful country lies in the dis- J 

tance behind him and frowning mountains rise on I 
every side. j 

The morning when old Reuben had arrived in such ' 
haste with the letter for Mrs. Carthew was only the 
beginning of changes for the family in High Street. 
Annette was the only one of the children who could 
fully appreciate their loss. Francis was so accus- 
tomed to his father’s absence from home that now j 
his mother’s absence was a greater grief to him than 
even the news of his father’s death ; and little Avice 
was too young to understand anything. But to An- ^ 
140 


OLD BRISTOL. 


141 


nette the sorrow in which she watched her mother 
ride away seemed as nothing compared to the bitter 
sorrow in which she now looked forward to her re- 
turn. The fatigue and the final shock had been more 
than Mrs. Carthew could bear, and for a time she was 
unable to leave Kidderminster ; but even those who 
had been strangers to her when she arrived were very 
kind and showed the deepest sympathy. Her one 
thought now was to return to her children, and as 
soon as she had strength for the journey she longed 
to set oflT for Bristol. Walter Cortland, who had been 
very attentive during all this time of sorrow, had 
sent a messenger to Master Hugh Middleton, and he 
brought word to Mrs. Carthew that the messenger 
had returned saying that Master Middleton was on 
his way to escort home his cousin. 

“ Surely you will return with us ?” said Mrs. 
Carthew ; “ there is nothing to detain you here.” 

This was very true, for Walter had been unable 
to gain any information concerning the young 
prince; and as the small purse of money that he 
had brought with him was growing light, he began 
to think that he had better return home. 

But the morning that Master Middleton arrived 
Walter happened to be away in Worcester, and, as 
Master Middleton was not inclined to wait, Mrs. 
Carthew left a note for Walter, charging the faithful 


142 


OLD BRISTOL. 


old Keuben to deliver it and to bring the young man 
to Bristol with him. 

The sealed packet was still in Walter’s possession, 
for Captain Carthew had spoken of it as containing 
instructions for his cousin in case of his death, and 
Walter did not care to trust it to an ordinary mes- 
senger. He therefore set off with Reuben for 
Bristol, intending to deliver the packet, and then 
proceed without delay to Thurlton Hall. But an 
unexpected encounter changed his not very constant 
mind. 

As they were entering Bristol they saw a party 
before them consisting of a gentleman on horseback 
and a lady mounted on a pillion behind a serving- 
man. Near the Castle they paused, as if to admire 
the old time-worn fortress that had seen so many 
wars. As Walter Cortland passed them he saw the 
lady turn to speak to the gentleman, whom she 
addressed as “cousin.” The man-servant was still 
gazing intently at the gray walls of the old Castle, 
and his face was turned away, but something in his 
figure or the way that he sat his horse attracted 
Walter’s attention. 

He gave a sudden exclamation, and then, to cover 
it, struck the spurs into his horse. The fiery animal 
plunged, and before Walter succeeded in quieting 
it the other party had ridden away. 


OLD BRISTOL. 


143 


What is the matter ?” cried Keuben, who was 
following at a slower pace. 

“ My horse stumbled,” replied Walter carelessly. 

“ You know what I told you, Master Cortland : 
he is not a surefooted beast,” said Keuben, who 
prided himself on his skill in judging a horse. 

“ Perhaps you were right,” answered Walter, who 
was too much engrossed even to contest the merits 
of his horse. He rode forward with the blood 
tingling in his veins and many wild projects flitting 
through his brain, for he W'as convinced that the 
serving-man whom he had just passed was no other 
than the young prince. There could be no doubt 
that he intended to take ship here for France, and 
Walter’s whole mind w^as absorbed in wild plans of 
aiding his escape. 

Instead of going to the house in the High Street, 
he rode direct to the warehouse near the wharf, 
where Master Hugh Middleton was sure to be found 
at this hour. The result of that interview Mrs Car- 
thew learned the next day, when Master Middleton 
told her that Master Walter Cortland had left a 
farewell message for her, but she could learn no par- 
ticulars. A messenger from his mother was w^aiting 
for him at the house in the High Street, but Walter 
was gone, and he was not to be seen again in Bristol 
for many a day. 


144 


OLD BRISTOL. 


The serving-man was really Charles Stuart, who 
in this disguise was escorting Mistress Lane of Bent- 
ley to Abbots Leigh, the house of her kinswoman. 
Mistress Norton, which was three miles from Bristol. 
His great desire to see the famous Bristol Castle had 
induced them to go a little out of their direct route 
to Abbots Leigh. Walter’s surmise that he would 
immediately take passage to France was not correct, 
for this port was too closely watched, and Charles 
was forced to remain concealed in the kitchen of the 
old manor-house, while the young Cavalier was al- 
ready tossing on the short waves of the Channel. 

Though Mrs. Carthew sent a very kind and sym- 
pathizing letter to her friend when the messenger re- 
turned to Thurlton, she could not bestow much thought 
on Master Walter, for her troubles were multiplying. 

Mistress Bertha, who had never been known to 
complain of any ailment, looked so ill and worn 
that her sister-in-law was shocked to see the change. 
The children were almost frightened to find how many 
things that had never before escaped her keen eye 
w’ere now allowed to pass unnoticed, and even the 
servants whispered that the death of the master had 
sadly broken down Mistress Bertha. 

In the midst of all her sorrow and anxiety a new 
trouble came very unexpectedly on Mrs. Carthew. 
The morning after their return Hugh Middleton 


OLD BRISTOL. 


145 


came to inquire if Captain Carthew had entrusted to 
her keeping his will or any papers relating to the 
disposition of his property. In her distress she had 
not even thought of such matters, and she could only 
tell him that she had no papers in her possession. 

“ Master Vickris the lawyer came to me to make 
inquiries about matters of business,” said Hugh. 
“ It has been a difficult matter for me. You doubt- 
less know that Cousin Roger was always ready to 
give where he saw distress, and I never liked to re- 
fuse to send him money when he wrote for it. But 
debts must be paid, as I told him, or I could not 
carry on the trade. However, it is needless to 
trouble you with details. Cousin Roger wrote to me 
that he could send me money that he had received, 
and meanwhile I paid what was urgently needed out 
of my own private property.” 

“ My husband did not mention it to me,” replied 
Mrs. Carthew, vaguely wondering where Hugh had 
got his private property. “ He did not say anything 
to me about business.” 

“ Perhaps I might find something if you will per- 
mit me to look among his papers,” suggested Hugh. 

There was a secretary of highly-polished oak 
which stood in Captain Carthew’s private room, in 
which he kept letters and important papers. Mrs. 
Carthew shrank from opening it and disarranging 
13 K 


146 


OLD BRISTOL. 


the neat packages that had been tied up and labelled 
by her husband’s hands, but she saw that it must 
be done, and she said quietly, 

“ I will go with you now.” 

“It will only distress you. Pray let me attend 
to this,” said Hugh eagerly. 

But she shook her head, and rose to fetch the 
keys. There was no more to be said, and with a 
slight look of annoyance Hugh followed her. They 
did not find what they sought, but as she was closing 
the secretary a sudden memory flashed across Mrs. 
Carthew’s mind. 

“ Master Walter Cortland has a packet for you,” 
she exclaimed. “I had forgotten, but I saw it in 
his hand the day — ” 

Her voice faltered, and Hugh hastily interrupted, 

“Ah, .doubtless that contains all that we need. 
I am sorry to have troubled you ;” and without 
further question he took his leave. 

Mrs. Carthew looked forward eagerly to Walter’s 
arrival, thinking that the packet might contain some 
instructions for her as well as for Hugh. What he 
had said about debts troubled her. She knew that 
her husband had a horror of debt. His honest and 
upright mind could see small difierence between not 
paying a man the money that was due to him and 
stealing the same sum from his pocket; and it 


OLD BRISTOL. 


147 


troubled her sorely to think that any of his debts 
were unpaid. 

Hugh said very little when he brought her the 
news that the packet had arrived, but a few days 
after Lawyer Vickris came to request an interview 
with her. From him she learned that the packet 
contained only a letter to Master Middleton request- 
ing him to act as guardian to the children until 
Francis should come of age. 

“ Captain Carthew made no estimate of his prop- 
erty,” said the little lawyer, puckering his brows 
over his keen gray eyes. ‘‘Are you aware that it 
was much diminished?” 

“I did not know — I never inquired,” faltered 
Mrs. Carthew in dismay, for she saw that Master 
Vickris wished to prepare her for something. 

“ We will do what we can,” said the lawyer, “ but 
I fear it is a bad case. Money has been used in 
other, ways; and it is Master Middleton who has 
supplied what was needed to carry on the trade.” 

He then tried to explain to her the state of affairs, 
but Mrs. Carthew did not understand, and only 
grew more bewildered in her attempt to follow the 
details that he laid before her. At last ,the lawyer 
gave it up as a hopeless task, and took his leave, 
saying that he would have further converse with 
Master Middleton. 


148 


OLD BEISTOL. 


Although she could not comprehend the details, 
Mrs. Carthew fully understood that her children 
were threatened with poverty. There was no one 
to whom she could turn for advice and sympathy 
but Mistress Bertha, and in her present state she 
dreaded to tell her of this new trouble. There 
seemed, however, to be no alternative, and at last 
she went to Mistress Bertha’s chamber. 

She found her sitting in an easy-chair, a luxury 
that she would have scorned had she been strong and 
well. She was turning over and reading some old 
letters. They were all from her brother, and some 
among them, in a large round hand, were written 
when he was a little boy. She went on opening and 
folding them with trembling fingers while Mrs. Car- 
thew sat down beside her, but as soon as she under- 
stood what was the matter she put them back care- 
fully in her desk and listened attentively. 

“ Do you tell me truth ?” she exclaimed, with more 
energy than she had shown for a long time. “ What 
has Hugh Middleton been doing?” 

“ I do not think he could help it,” replied Mrs. 
Carthew. “He says he did his best.” 

“ His best, indeed !” cried Mistress Bertha hotly. 
“ No one can make me believe that my dear brother 
gave away money that was not his own. He never 
used for other purposes money that was needed to 


OLD BRISTOL. 


149 


pay his debts. I never liked Hugh Middleton, with 
his smooth speech and cat-like ways. There has 
been some roguery here,^ and I will have the matter 
explained.” 

In spite of all protest, she insisted on sending for 
the little lawyer, and the next morning when he came 
she went to meet him in the wainscoted parlor with 
something very like her old decision of manner. 
The interview seemed to do her good rather than 
harm, and Master Vickris went a^ay with a feeling 
of high respect for Mistress Bertha, whom he after- 
ward described as a most sensible woman. 

The lawyer agreed that the account given by Mas- 
ter Middleton of Captain Carthew’s losses was very 
unsatisfactory, and he fully shared Mistress Bertha’s 
•opinion that Hugh had not proved himself well fitted 
for the trust that the captain had reposed in him. 
No really dishonest act could be discovered, but he 
was known to be very sharp at a bargain, and it w^as 
w^hispered that he had privately lent money at an 
exorbitant rate of interest. 

Mistress Bertha had inherited a little property 
from her mother, and now the feeling that her 
brother’s children needed her help and protection 
seemed to give her new life. 

“ Master Vickris tells me that there will be little 
enough left when all is settled, and that little is en- 


150 


OLD BRISTOL 


tirely in Hugh’s hands, as he is the children’s guar- 
dian,” she said to her sister-in-law ; “ but we can 
manage as long as we have a roof over our heads.” 

Even this consolation was soon taken away. The 
next morning Hugh came to tell Mrs. Carthew that 
he considered it best to sell the house and invest the 
money for the children. He said that they could 
live much more cheaply in lodgings. Mistress Ber- 
tha’s indignation reached its height, but Mrs. Car- 
thew, though dee^y pained, could not allow herself 
to find fault with the man her husband had trusted. 

Up to this time nothing had been said of these 
troubles before Elsa and the children, but Annette 
was sorely puzzled. Her children had always been 
Mrs. Carthew’s greatest comfort, and Annette could 
not understand why their most eager attempts to- 
please her should now only bring tears to their 
mother’s eyes. Elsa was quicker to divine the 
meaning of the little lawyer’s grave face and fre- 
quent visits. She could not bear to remain any 
longer dependent upon her kind friends, and she 
was casting about in her mind for some means of 
supporting herself. She thought first of selling her 
lace-work and making fine embroidery, but when she 
learned that the house in the High Street must be 
sold a new idea flashed upon her mind. She remem- 
bered Lady Cortland’s eagerness to persuade her to 


OLD BRISTOL. 


151 


come to Thurlton as little Edith’s governess, and she 
earnestly begged Mrs. Carthew to write to Lady Cort- 
land about the matter. Mrs. Carthew very reluctant- 
ly consented. She was very loath to have Elsa go so 
far away, but she knew Lady Cortland’s kindly inter- 
est in the young maiden, and it seemed the best plan, 
at least for the present. 

One evening, soon after this letter was despatched. 
Master Vickris appeared with pleasure lurking in 
every wrinkle of his kindly old face. Master Mid- 
dleton had announced his intention of buying the 
house himself, and he sent a request that his cousin’s 
family would remain in it during the winter. 

“ Cousin Hugh !” exclaimed Mrs. Carthew in amaze- 
ment; “what can he want with a house like this? 
Surely he did not — ” 

“ No, no, he did not buy it for you,” interrupted 
the lawyer, rubbing his hands ; “ but I must say that 
he is acting handsomely. I have just learned that 
he is engaged to be married. You no doubt knew 
of it before. He intends, however, to put off his 
marriage until the spring, that you may not be 
obliged to move during the cold . weather.” 

Mrs. Carthew knew nothing of Hugh’s intentions, 
and Master Vickris informed her that his betrothed 
was Mistress Grace Kuberry. Master Ruberry was 
a, wealthy merchant living in Small Street, and his 


152 


OLD BRISTOL. 


daughter, his only child, was said to be a pretty and 
gentle maiden. Mrs. Carthew was so much surprised 
that she hardly knew how to express her thanks, but 
Annette, who was in the room, clapped her hands 
with delight. 

“No other place would seem like home,” she cried. 
“ I am so glad that we can stay, and now Elsa need 
not go away !” 

But Elsa was not of that opinion. She said very 
little until the answer came from Thurlton Hall ; 
then in her gentle but decided way she announced 
her intention of accepting the offer that Lady Cort- 
land renewed with the greatest kindness. 

Mrs. Carthew and Mistress Bertha felt that she 
would not be doing right to disappoint Lady Cort- 
land, and this winter, that seemed a lifetime to the 
children, would soon be over, and the question of a 
new home would have to be decided in a few 
months. 

Poor Annette was bitterly disappointed, and dur- 
ing the week of preparation for Elsa’s departure she 
wandered about the house, looking so pale and discon- 
solate that Elsa was sadly troubled. One night Mis- 
tress Bertha came to her ’bedside and found her cry- 
ing instead of sleeping. 

“ Hoot, bairnie !” she said, kindly smoothing back 
the curls from the child’s flushed face, “ it will never 


OLD BRISTOL. 


153 


do to take on at that gait. Elsa will come back 
whiles.” 

“ Yes, Aunt Bertha,” said Annette in a choked 
voice, “but it is not only Elsa’s going away.” 

“ What is the matter ? Is it your knee ?” asked 
Mistress Bertha, sitting down on the side of the bed. 

“ No, not particularly that ; it does not pain me as 
it used to,” answered Annette. “I was trying to 
think what I had done that was very bad and 
wicked.” 

“Something very wicked? What do you mean, 
child ?” asked Mistress Bertha, astonished. 

“You know. Aunt Bertha, God sends judgments 
on us for our sins. You used to say that the hurt 
to my knee was a judgment, and I suppose I was not 
a good child then. I used to read over the chapter 
you gave me every morning as fast as I could, and I 
did not think about God, as Elsa does. But now, 
when I am trying to be better, judgments come more 
than ever. Do you think that I shall ever be good 
enough for God to stop sending them?” 

For a few moments Mistress Bertha had not a 
word to say. She knew too well w'ho had taught 
Annette to look upon troubles as judgments from 
God, but her brother’s death had thrown a new light 
over many things for Mistress Bertha, and she an- 
swered very gently, 


154 


OLD BKISTOL. 


“ I think, child, that it is not for us to say why 
God sends trouble. As Mr. Ewins says, ‘ If a little 
child is running down a smooth green field to the 
edge of a cliff, and somebody picks it up and sets it 
in a stony lane leading to its home, that is a kindness, 
not a punishment.’ I think that the Almighty has 
put us now into the stony lane that leads home, and 
he will help us over the rough places too. Now go 
to sleep, child — at once,” she added, with a sudden 
change to her usual decided tone. 

Then, tucking in the bed-covers vigorously, she 
planted a kiss on her little niece’s cheek and went 
away. Annette was completely surprised out of her 
tearful mood. A kiss from Aunt Bertha was very 
rarely bestowed, and always in the most business-like 
manner, but it meant a great deal. Her words set 
Annette thinking again, but it was of a loving God, 
not of a stern judge, and she soon fell into a peace- 
ful sleep. 

Two days afterward Elsa set out for Thurlton, but 
there were bright smiles shining through the tears 
that glistened in Annette’s eyes. She bade her a 
cheerful good-bye, and looked forward with delight 
to the long letters that Elsa promised to write to 
her. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


3nRK MONDAY. 

rilHE battle’ of AVorcester had put an end to all 
A- the hopes of the royalists. After many narrow 
escapes and strange adventures in various disguises, 
Prince Charles at last managed to get on board a 
vessel sailing from the little fishing-village of Bright- 
helmstone on the south coast, and in the middle of 
October he landed once more on French soil. But 
this time the fugitive prince was coldly received. 
His mother was the only one to welcome him, and 
it was reported that she was “ constantly wonderful 
merry and overjoyed to see him safe near her.” 
But the French king for some time took no .notice 
of his arrival. 

The nations of Europe, which had been watching 
the struggle between the king and his subjects, were 
now convinced that the subjects had the best of it. 
The English people were setting to work in earnest 
to reform abuses and to remodel laws, and as they 
chose to govern themselves, and appeared to be 


156 


OLD BRISTOL. 


capable of doing it, the royal houses of Europe 
were willing to recognize the English Commonwealth, 
and ambassadors were sent to London. 

Times had greatly changed since the year that 
Elsa arrived in London, when the ship she came in 
was chased by one of Prince Rupert’s privateers. 
The British navy under Admiral Blake and Sir 
William Penn of Bristol — the father of the little 
eight-year-old boy who was in later years to do 
such good work in the New World — was becoming 
again a feared and respected power, such as it had 
been in the days of good Queen Elizabeth. The 
Dutch admiral Van Tromp, who had fastened a 
broom to his mast with the boast that he would 
sweep the English from the seas, soon found that 
even a new broom does not always sweep clean, and 
the English not only remained on the seas, but they 
remained as masters. 

While England was gaining power and respect 
abroad there was still plenty to do at home. There 
was a stern hatred in the minds of all sober. God- 
fearing men for everything papistical. But there 
is always danger lest those who have been persecuted 
may become persecutors when their turn comes ; and 
the strict Presbyterians did not spare tongue or pen 
in opposition to the principles of the Baptists. 
Cromwell came in for a full share of abuse because 


OLD BRISTOL. 


157 


lie showed a greater spirit of toleration. Strange 
doctrines and wild prophecies about this time kept 
the unlearned in a state of excitement and appre- 
hension. One prophecy asserted that the Judgment 
Day would come on the 29th of April, 1652. The 
alarm was so general that on that day- no one would 
go out and business was neglected. The terror in- 
creased as the light of the sun began to fade. But 
the day passed off in safety, and it became known 
that nothing more dreadful than an eclipse of the 
sun had occurred. Mirk Monday, however, was 
long remembered with awe. 

The following letter was written by Annette to 
Elsa, giving her own account of the day in Bristol : 

The 30th of April, 1652. 

My dear Elsa: 

I cannot tell you the fright that has been upon all 
the town. Nurse said that the day of judgment was 
come, and mother could hardly prevail on her to do 
any work. When the sun began to grow dark in the 
sky I was in terror too. Aunt Bertha said that such 
things had happened before, and dear mother said that 
if it was the Last Day we should only strive to be found 
at our work, not sitting idly in fear and terror. But 
there was not a soul to be seen on the street, and even 
Cousin Hugh looked pale and did not go to the office, 
and when the darkness began to fall he knelt down and 
hid his face. 

14 


158 


OLD BEISTOL. 


Mr. Ewins came in the evening when it was all over, 
and he asked me what I thought. I was obliged to 
speak the truth, that I was sorely alFrighted when the 
night began to fall in the middle of the day. But he 
spoke so very kindly, and told me that it was because 
the moon came between the light of the sun and the 
earth. He called it an eclipse. I asked him to spell 
the word, that I might write it to you, for perhaps you 
too were affrighted as I was. Then he said that we 
should not fear the coming of the end of the world. 
Oh, Elsa, I would I could write to you all he said ! 
Aunt Bertha came in, and he turned to speak to her, but 
I still listened. He said that we were living in the light 
of God’s love and favor, as the flowers live and grow in 
the sunlight. When troubles come, they are as the 
clouds that only veil the sunlight for a little while, and 
the tears that are shed with humble trust and patience 
are as the showers to make the flowers of meekness and 
love to grow in our hearts. Then he turned to me and 
said, patting my cheek, 

“ Little maiden, did you see the color of the flowers 
and grass to-day? You could hardly believe that your 
sweet violets and primroses could look so livid. That 
is the way it is when w^e let anything in this universe 
come between us and the favor of God : our brightest 
joys look fearful to us.” 

I told that afterward to Francis, when he said to me 
that even Baby Avice’s pretty, rosy face looked blue and 
awesome to him in that fearful darkness. He thought a 
while, and then he said he knew what Mr. Ewins meant. 


OLD BRISTOL. 


159 


for when he had anything bad in his mind even dear 
mother’s face made him feel afraid. But I do not think 
that our Francis often has anything bad in his mind. He 
is so much older and more thoughtful than when you last 
saw him. He goes now every day to Master Haynes in 
Corn Street to learn writing; and there is one Master 
Edward Terrill who teaches Francis and sometimes 
talks to him. Aunt Bertha calls Master Terrill a very 
sober-minded young man, and she likes him much. I 
do not like him as well as Master Walter Cortland, who 
was so handsome and gallant. But Dorothy Listun says 
she could not believe Master Cortland gallant, or he 
would not have stolen away from his parents, who 
need him so much. I would rather Francis grew up 
like Master Terrill than like Master Cortland. 

The 1st of May. I had to lay down my pen yester- 
night, for Avice could not sleep, and cried for me to sing 
to her. I was minded to finish my letter this morning, 
but just as I had set me down Aunt Bertha called to me 
in great haste to don my new gown and clean kerchief, 
for Mistress Grace Ruberry had stopped before our 
house. She is such a sweet and gracious damsel ; I 
wish Cousin Hugh would marry her at once and bring 
her here. Mother says that I must hasten to finish my 
letter. Avice sends you a kiss, and I am always 

Your loving 

Annette. 

PosTSCRiPTUM. I forgot to tell you that Mistress 
Grace’s uncle came with her. He knew my father, and 


160 


OLD BRISTOL. 


fought with him in Scotland. Avice was frightened at 
his long nose and the hair on his face, and she hid be- 
hind mother’s chair. But when he spoke of father his 
voice was so gentle that she came out, and afterward 
gave him her hand. This letter is very badly writ, but 
the terror of Monday confused me, and I have* left out 
much that I wanted to say. 

The uncle of Mistress Grace, whom Annette now 
saw for the first time, was no other than Cromwell’s 
soldier, Jack Stone, who had arrived in Bristol one 
showery April morning and presented himself before 
Master Ruberry. The worthy merchant was much 
astonished, and somewhat disturbed, by the sudden 
apparition of the bronzed and war-worn soldier who 
came to claim recognition as an old friend ; but when 
Jack began to speak of Grace’s mother, who had been 
dead for fifteen years, and with a little suspicious 
huskiness in his voice asked for some particulars 
about her death, and spoke of her little girl, the 
merchant at once recognized him as his brother-in- 
law, the brother of his lost wife. He gave him a 
cordial welcome, but Jack would not accept his in- 
vitation to go with him to his house. 

“ No, no. I thank you kindly,” he said, “ but I 
must wander off* again. I only came to see how you 
and the lassie are going on ; and ” — his voice grew 
husky again — “ I have a little money laid by, and 


OLD BRISTOL. 


161 


there is no one belonging to me to need it; so I 
thought it might be useful to Mary’s child. You 
were not doing very well the last time I saw you.” 

“Ah, times have changed greatly since then. 
Those were the days of ship-money and taxes, 
which ruined the merchants to fill the king’s cof- 
fers,” answered Master Ruberry. “ God has pros- 
pered me wonderfully in these last years, and I ex- 
pect to give my daughter a dowry wofthy of her 
when she is married.” 

“ Married !” exclaimed Jack. “ You do not mean 
little Grace ? She could just walk when I last saw 
her.” 

“But that was twenty years ago or more,” said 
Master Ruberry. “She is a comely maiden now, 
and she will not be pleased if you do not come home 
with me. She would rather see her uncle than his 
money, though yours was a kind thought. Jack;” 
and he grasped his brother-in-law’s hand warmly. 

Jack let himself be persuaded, and instead of going 
off in search of more wars and adventures the gentle 
influence of his pretty niece kept him in Bristol week 
after week. Grace had not made acquaintance with 
the Carthew family, for she was of a timid dispo- 
sition, and Hugh had seemed rather to avoid any 
meeting between his cousins and his betrothed ; but 
when Jack Stone found that the family of his old 
14* * L 


162 


OLD BRISTOL. 


comrade-in-arms lived so near, he insisted that she 
must come with him to visit them. 

The acquaintanceship, once begun, quickly ripened 
into friendship, and one day, when Hugh had begun 
to urge a speedy marriage. Mistress Grace, with 
some hesitation, inquired why it w'as necessary that 
Mrs. Carthew should leave the house in the High 
Street. Hugh made some objections to her remain- 
ing, but Mistress Grace, with all her gentleness, 
could be persistent in a good cause, and she spoke 
to her father, urging him to make it plain both to 
Hugh and to Mrs. Carthew that it would be pleasant 
for her if they could all remain. 

“ It is such a large house, and I should be lonely 
when Hugh was away,” she said ; and Master Ruberry 
called her a sensible wench and told her that she 
should have her way. 

Master Hugh w^as not very well pleased. He had 
only asked his cousin to remain in their old house 
because he found that people were beginning to look 
coldly on him, and this was an easy way to appear 
generous with no expense. He could not, how^ever, 
contradict his bride, and Grace’s eagerness made up 
for any coolness on his part when the offer was made 
to Mrs. Carthew. 

She was at first reluctant to intrude on the newdy- 
married couple, but Mistress Grace’s pretty persua- 


OLD BRISTOL. 


163 


sions quickly overcame her scruples. It was ar- 
ranged that the marriage should take place in June, 
and the interest of arranging the house for the bride 
kept the whole family, even down to little two-year- 
old Avice, in pleasant excitement. 

There was only one drawback to Annette’s satis- 
faction, and this was that her aunt Bertha had declared 
her intention of leaving. 

“ Hugh has got a sweet and loving bride,” she said 
to Mrs. Garth ew, “ and I hope he will prove himself 
worthy of her ; but I cannot stay in the house with 
him. I do not love him, and he knows it well.” 

Mrs. Carthew tried to alter her decision, but with- 
out success. Mistress Bertha had changed greatly 
in the last nine months, and the children no longer 
stood in awe of her. Annette, who was more with 
her than any one else, was surprised to find how easy 
it was to love her. But to all outside her own family 
she was much the same as before. Mistress Grace was 
a little afraid of her, and at heart not sorry that she 
had determined to leave. Annette was very much 
afraid that her aunt would go far away, as Elsa had, 
but her fears were set at rest when Mistress Bertha 
announced one morning that she had taken a room 
at Mistress Bardin’s, near the Castle. 

“I thought she had only room enough in her 
house for herself and Dick,” said Mrs. Carthew. 


164 


OLD BRISTOL. 


“ Cousin Hugh says that the Dolphin will be in 
port the week after next,” chimed in Francis. 

“ But Dick is not coming,” replied Mistress Ber- 
tha ; “ he is going to try to make money on land in 
the new country.” 

When the children left the room she explained to 
her sister-in law the reason of this change : 

“ You know my brother intended to make Dick 
captain of the Dolphin, in place of Captain West, 
who is growing old. But Hugh does not like Dick, 
and he has made arrangements to give the position 
to some one else. Dick learned of this through a 
friend, and decided to remain in New England. He 
wrote to his mother that he had lost his best friend 
here, and he would have more chance of making his 
fortune in the New World.” 


CHAPTEK XIV. 

MASTER WILLOVGHBTS PROPOSAL. 

D uring the preparations for the marriage of her 
cousin Hugh, Annette had not much time to write 
to Elsa, but when the great event was over a long 
letter, giving a full account of it, found its way to 
Thurlton Hall. Among other things, Annette men- 
tioned that the Dolphin was in port, and that Dick 
Bardin had not returned in her. Lady Cortland, 
who took a great interest in her little German gov- 
erness, noticed that she was rather preoccupied and 
not as cheerful as usual for a day or two after the 
letter arrived. But Elsa had little time for imagi- 
nary troubles or for lamenting over real ones. Her 
position was no sinecure, and indeed it would have 
been rather hard to define exactly what was her po- 
sition in the household. When she first arrived at 
Thurlton she had the care of the little Edith, but 
the troubles of the times had wrought changes to 
the Cortland family as well as to so many others. 
When the war with the Dutch began, Sir John 

1(55 


166 


OLD BRISTOL. 


Cortland, who had already lost much property 
during the Civil War, was again heavily taxed, and 
a large portion of his estate was saved from confis- 
cation only by the payment of a heavy fine. Crom- 
W'ell was of opinion that it was better not to punish 
severely those who held to the cause of the young 
prince ; but money was much needed to improve 
the navy and to meet the expenses of the Dutch 
war, and it was upon the royalists that the heaviest 
taxes were laid. By the exertions of Master Kiflin, 
who had also kindly rendered assistance to AYalter 
Cortland when he was in London after the battle of 
Dunbar, the old hall was saved from confiscation, 
but it required all the money Sir John could raise. 
The last of Lady Cortland’s jewels, many of which 
had already gone to supply the demands made on 
her by her eldest son, were sold, and many of the 
servants dismissed. 

The French maid was one of the first to go, to 
Elsa’s great relief, for she had been a great annoy- 
ance to the quiet, modest maiden. Her departure, 
however, added to Elsa’s duties, for now she was 
often called to assist Lady Cortland with her taste 
and skill ; but in embroidery and fine needlework 
she always took delight, and this gave her many 
quiet hours with her kind friend. 

But another trouble was springing up which she 


OLD BRISTOL. 


167 


had little anticipated. Ralph had grown entirely 
beyond the control of women, and Sir John was too 
much broken down by troubles and intense suffering 
from gout to undertake to manage him. It was 
therefore very necessary to engage some one to con- 
trol and to educate the boy. After some consider- 
ation Sir John decided to have a chaplain at 
Thurlton. 

In the beginning of the century many of the 
clergy of the English Church were very poorly 
paid, and it was no great expense for a country 
gentleman to have a clergyman to live in his house 
and to say grace at his table ; but this practice had 
detracted so much from the dignity of the clergy 
that King Charles had issued positive orders that 
no one except those of high rank should keep a 
chaplain. Kow, however, that the Presbyterian 
Parliament was in the ascendency, a number of the 
country clergy, many of whom were very ignorant 
men, found themselves without parishes, and were 
glad to gain admittance into a gentleman’s family 
where they would be clothed and fed. Sir John’s 
chaplain, Mr. Willoughby, was one of this class, 
and he was glad to accept ten pounds a year and a 
room at Thurlton Hall. His learning was almost 
as scanty as his wardrobe. But if he did little to 
educate Ralph, he -was a very useful person about 


168 


OLD BRISTOL. 


the house, and the training that he did not bestow 
on Ralph’s mind he gave to the fruit trees in the 
garden, thereby saving Sir John the expense of a 
second gardener. 

During the winter Elsa saw little of the chaplain 
except at meals, but when the summer-time came on 
she occasionally met him in the grounds when she 
was walking with Edith. As days passed on she 
noticed that he was always in the park when she 
went out with her little charge. He seemed to know 
their favorite walks and to contrive to meet them, 
and then he would stop to hold converse with Elsa 
or follow her if she walked away. She was so much 
annoyed by this behavior that she tried to avoid him 
by going out at a different hour or in a different 
direction. She was not always successful, however, 
and she felt relieved when at last the fine weather 
was over and the autumn rains kept little Edith in 
the house. But Mr. Willoughby was not to be got 
rid of so easily : he still found opportunities to meet 
Elsa, and one day he completed her alarm and 
distress by an unmistakable offer of his heart and 
hand. 

Elsa endeavored with politeness, but in a very 
decided manner, to make him understand that she 
could not accept the offer ; but Mr. Willoughby was 
not a diffident man or one to be easily discouraged. 


OLD BRISTOL. 


169 


and in the beginning of January, when a new 
quarter began, he made known his wishes to Sir 
John, and asked for his approbation of his suit and 
some increase in his salary. Elsa had kept the 
matter to herself, hoping that it w'as at an end, but 
to her surprise one morning, when she was in Lady 
Cortland’s dressing-room arranging a dress for her, 
that lady herself told her of Mr. Willoughby’s 
offer. 

“ I think that I had better go back to Bristol,” 
said poor Elsa in dismay. 

“ Oh no !” cried Lady Cortland. “ I thought that 
it was only right to speak to you on the matter, but 
if you do not wish to marry him, that is all : you 
can decide.” 

“ I did decide, my lady,” said Elsa proudly, “ but 
it seems that my English was not good to make 
Master Willoughby understand that ‘ No ’ does not 
mean ‘Yes.’” 

“ Never mind, child,” said Lady Cortland as she 
noticed the hot flush on Elsa’s brow. “I should 
like you to marry and stay here, but I will settle the 
matter. Master Willoughby- shall not annoy you: 
Sir John says that you are much too good for him. 
But do not cry over that silk, child ; it will be 
ruined,” she exclaimed in horror as the shining tears 
rolled down the maiden’s cheek. 

15 


170 


OLD BRISTOL. 


“ Sir John is very kind,” said Elsa, drying her 
tears, “ but I do not think my goodness or badness 
has anything to do with it. I am not of Master 
Willoughby’s way of thinking in many things, and 
I do not think that I should suit him any better than 
he would suit me.” 

“ But, Elsa child, you are not going always to hold 
to your queer opinions, and I am sure Master Wil- 
loughby is too much attached to you to mind them 
so long as you do not make them too conspicuous.” 

“ He graciously told me as much,” replied Elsa, 
so dryly that Lady Cortland laughed outright. 

The» question seemed to be settled after this, but 
the di^omfort of it remained. Master Willoughby 
took occasion continually to speak against “the 
fanatical Anabaptists,” as he termed them, and he 
not only sought to counteract the slight influence for 
good which Elsa had gained over Ralph, but also to 
prejudice Sir John and Lady Cortland against her. 
Cut off from all intercourse with her church and her 
dear Bristol friends, poor Elsa began to feel very 
lonely and downcast, and it was only her love for 
her little charge that made her hesitate about re- 
turning to Bristol. 

Lady Cortland was a most tender and affectionate 
mother, as far as petting her children went, and 
Edith was her joy and delight, she looked so win- 


OLD BRISTOL. 


171 


ning in the pretty dresses her mother was constantly 
planning for her, and she did not cause her anxiety 
like her brothers. Little Edith was her mother’s 
idol, but it was Elsa only who took any pains to 
teach the little girl ; and a large part of Elsa’s teach- 
ing was from the Bible. Master Willoughby no- 
ticed this with serious disapproval, and drew Lady 
Cortland’s attention to it. 

One Sunday afternoon Lady Cortland called her 
little girl to her to repeat the Collect for the day. 
She repeated it correctly, but after she had left the 
room Lady Cortland remarked gently to Elsa, 

“ Edith is improving under your care. I am much 
pleased with her pretty manners, anH her men^ry is 
remarkable. But she begins to repeat to me things 
that are not in the Prayer Book at all. I wish you 
to be careful, Elsa ; you must not teach her the 
words of others than our holy divines.” 

“ I have taught her none but the holiest words, my 
lady,” replied Elsa. “ If she has repeated any sacred 
passages to you, you will find them all in the Bible.” 

Lady Cortland was very devout in all matters of 
religion, but she knew much more of the Prayer 
Book than of the Bible, and she had not recognized 
the texts of Scripture which her little girl had re- 
peated to her. Elsa’s answer embarrassed her a lit- 
tle ; she repeated, however, her injunction to be very 


172 


OLD BRISTOL. 


careful as to what Edith learned, and to remember 
that the Prayer Book was a safe guide. A day or 
two afterward Lady Cortland’s time and attention 
were wholly engrossed by her husband. Sir John 
was laid up with an unusually severe attack of gout, 
which made him very irritable ; he needed constant 
care and would hardly allow his wife to be out of his 
sight. Thus Edith was more than ever with Elsa. 

As for Kalph, he did as he pleased, for Mr. Wil- 
loughby was little calculated to inspire the high-spir- 
ited boy with either affection or respect. He had a 
little black pony on which his father had mounted 
him when he was only six years old, and the bright, 
active boy enjoyed nothing better than scouring the 
country on this little animal. Lady Cortland in- 
sisted that he must always be accompanied by Mr. 
Willoughby, but the clergyman was not a good horse- 
man, and Kalph soon rebelled against a quiet, decor- 
ous ride through the lanes, and it was his great de- 
light to slip away alone. 

One afternoon in March, Elsa had taken Edith 
out to look for early primroses. It was so chilly and 
cloudy that she was hurfying her back to the house, 
when they met Ralph near the stable-yard just pre- 
paring to mount. 

“ Don’t say that you saw me,” he whispered coax- 
ingly to Elsa. “ I am only going to the village.” 






V 

Y 


'■ i 

.•»?/ I* 



w V* 


4 


1 



Old Bristol. 


I 


. 0 


I 




« 


I 




Page 173 




OLD BRISTOL. 


173 


But I promised to try to keep you from going 
alone,” replied Elsa. “ Wait till Mr. Willoughby 
comes. It is not a nice evening to ride.” 

“ That is just it,” said the boy. “ Mother sent 
Babb to the apothecary to get some physic for fath- 
er, and he says his ‘ rheumatics be mighty bad,’ so 
I am going instead ; but you must not tell or you 
will get him into trouble. I am nearly nine years 
old, and Babb says that Walter went where he 
pleased when he was no older than I am, and I 
am taller than Walter was.” 

Elsa would not be persuaded, but at that moment 
Babb, the old groom, came shuffling out with his 
young master’s whip, and with a merry laugh and a 
wave of his hand to his little sister the boy cantered 
away. He was so frank and good-natured, with all 
his imperious, spoiled-child ways, that he was known 
and loved by all the country-people, and Elsa did 
not really fear any danger from his short ride to 
Thurlton. It was the disobedience that vexed her. 


CHAPTER XV. 

A DARK NIGHT ^8 RIDE. 

T HURLTON hall stood on a slightly-rising 
ground, with woods behind it and on one side. 
In front it commanded a fine view over rich meadows 
and wooded slopes, at the foot of which a low ivy- 
covered gray tower, scarcely visible among the trees, 
showed the site of the village of Thurlton. The 
right wing of the house overlooked a broad terrace 
from which on a very clear day the Bristol Channel 
could be discerned. In summer-time it would be 
difiicult to find in all Somersetshire a more lovely 
spot. But now the March winds whistled bleakly 
around the pointed gables and a thick fog hid all 
the beauties of the scene. The roads, which in the 
driest days of summer were none of the best, were 
now ankle-deep in mud, and the leafless trees and 
dripping hedges presented but a cheerless prospect 
to benighted travellers. So thought Dick Bardin as 
he and a fellow-traveller rode through the narrow 
lane which led past the gate of Thurlton Hall. 

174 


OLD BRISTOL. 


175 


“Dick, I fear greatly that thou art leading us 
astray,” said his companion at last, reining up his 
horse and speaking through the folds of a large 
cloak in which he was muffled. 

“Nay, Master Kiffln, I should know this road. 
But truly it has grown longer since I was here last. 
We should have reached the village ere now if my 
memory does not play me false.” 

He peered anxiously through the gloom as he 
spoke, but night was fast coming on and he could 
see but a few yards before him. 

“ I fear we shall have to shelter under a hedge 
with this gray mist for a blanket if the mud grows 
much deeper. Your horse can scarce pull through 
it.” 

“ He is not so far spent as yours, Dick,” replied 
Mr. Kiffln. 

“ By my troth, if my horse were as tired of me as 
1 of him, he would have given me a roll in this clay 
ere now. I would rather keep an eight hours’ watch 
on the Dolphin than have this ride to do again.” 

“ I have ever heard that sailors are not skilful 
horsemen,” said Mr. Kiffln with a laugh. 

The words were hardly spoken when Dick’s horse 
stumbled and sent his rider flying through the air. 
He fell in the ditch, and fortunately sustained no in- 
jury beyond a thorough soaking in muddy water. 


176 


OLD BRISTOL. 


But at that late hour in the evening, and with no 
shelter near, the affair looked serious enough to poor 
Dick. He scrambled up and turned ruefully to ex- 
amine his horse, who stood trembling with fatigue, 
when a voice behind him cried, 

“You stupid fellow! what are you doing? Get 
out of my way.” 

The tone was imperious enough for the Czar of 
all the Russias, but the voice was a childish one, and 
through the gloom they could just distinguish the 
slight figure of Ralph Cortland mounted on his little 
pony. 

“ Can you direct us to the nearest hostelry, my 
boy?” said Mr. Kiffin. “Night is overtaking us, 
and I fear we have missed our road.” 

“ You are going directly away from the Cortland 
Arms,” said Ralph in a more respectful tone. “ It 
is a dreadful road, and the night will be as black as 
pitch before you get there. Come home with me.” 

Mr. Kifiin smiled a little at the masterful tone in 
which the invitation was given, but neither of the 
horses was in a condition for a longer ride, and Dick 
was in a sorry plight, so he asked, 

“ Where is your home ?” 

“There among the trees — Thurlton Hall,” an- 
swered Ralph. “ Come, I will show you the way. 
You can’t go to the village to-night.” 


OLD BRISTOL. 


177 


He rode forward, followed by the travellers, and 
they soon came in sight of the cheerful light shining 
from the mullioned windows of the old hall. 

“ Will you tell your father that you have brought 
home with you Master Kiffin from London and Cap- 
tain Bardin from New England ?” said Mr. Kiffin as 
they dismounted at the door and old Babb came 
bustling up in answer to Kalph’s call. 

“I beg your pardon,” said Ralph in the outspo- 
ken way that won him friends in spite of his impe- 
rious manlier. “I did not know that you were a 
gentleman when my pony nearly tumbled over 
you.” 

With these words he ushered them into a large 
room, where a cheerful fire was blazing on the hearth 
and casting a bright glow on the old tapestry hang- 
ings and oaken wainscot. Sir John was seated by the 
fire in a large arm-chair, while his foot, swathed in 
flannel, was supported on pillows. He did not look 
in any mood to receive visitors, but Ralph without 
any hesitation walked up to him and introduced his 
guests. The old baronet turned with a start on hear- 
ing Mr. Kiffin’s name, and that gentleman hastened 
to apologize for intruding. 

“ My horse lost a shoe,” he explained, “ and we 
were detained an hour on the road. Then in the 
twilight my friend took the wrong turning, and the 
M 


178 


OLD BKISTOL. 


lane, instead of leading us to the inn, brought us to 
your gate, near which we met/ your son.” 

Tush !” cried Sir John, interrupting him, “ say no 
more. The inn is a hole where a dog could not 
sleep. — Kalph, take Master Kiffin and his friend 
to a chamber to change their doublets. Even an 
Anabaptist likes a dry doublet sometimes,” he mut- 
tered in a low tone, with a doubtful glance at his 
guest, as Kalph conducted him and his companion 
from the room. 

However rough and cross-grained the master had 
grown under the pressure of misfortune and of suf- 
fering, hospitality w^as a virtue that was never lack- 
ing at Thurlton Hall, and dry clothes and a good 
supper soon refreshed and warmed the weary trav- 
ellers. Kalph escaped his mother’s reproofs and 
complaints, for as soon as he informed her that he 
had brought home a Mr. Kiffin, she hastened away 
to see that all due respect was shown to one who had 
proved himself such a good and true friend. It was 
easier to provide a good supper than to feel assured 
of her husband’s behavior to their guests. Sir John 
had accepted all Mr. Kiffin’s assistance with a half- 
surly feeling that he ought never to have been in a 
position to need assistance, and his wife knew that 
he entertained a profound contempt for Mr. Kiffin’s 
religious opinions; so she was anxious lest in his 


OLD BRISTOL. 


179 


present state of mind he should let this be seen too 
plainly. 

She rather hoped that, on account of the pain he 
suffered from his foot, he would leave the entertain- 
ment of their guests to her, but she soon found that 
this was very far from his intention. He told her 
that after supper was over he wanted to have some 
talk with Mr. Kiffin. Lady Cortland, therefore, 
when she brought their guests again into her hus- 
band’s room, determined to remain there herself 
and to try to effect a diversion if the conversation 
approached dangerous topics. 

Sir John began immediately to inquire about mat- 
ters in London. The Long Parliament, which had 
ruled the country since the dethronement of the 
king, had been summarily dissolved by Cromwell 
in April, and the Parliament which received the 
name of the Little Parliament was convened in 
June. Cromwell, who was now called the Lord 
General, was really at the head of affairs, and the 
question of bestowing on him the title of Lord Pro- 
tector was now pending. Sir John’s first inquiry, 
however, was concerning the Navigation Act which 
had just been passed, and by which foreign ships 
were forbidden to bring into England any commod- 
ities not manufactured in the country to which they 
belonged. 


180 


OLD BRISTOL. 


“ That will bring down the fortunes of you London 
merchants,” said Sir John. “ Have you lost much 
since the act has been in operation?” 

‘‘No,” replied Mr. Kiffin, “though I was in 
danger of heavy losses. Only five weeks of grace 
were given between the passing of the act and the 
time at which it was to take efiect, and I with many 
other merchants in the city had sent orders for 
goods that were to be brought in Dutch ships from 
America.” 

“Your ships must indeed have had very good 
weather if they came in before that time was up,”- 
said Sir John. 

“ On the contrary, they had head winds and were 
much delayed, but the merchants presented a peti- 
tion to the Council of State, and they granted that 
all who could take oath that their goods were shipped 
before the act passed might receive their goods free 
of penalty.” 

The conversation then turned on the advantage 
which this act w^ould be to the shipping interest of 
England, as the Dutch had hitherto monopolized 
the carrying- trade. 

“You have made a fortune in a very short time,” 
said Sir John. 

“ Yes,” replied Mr. Kifiin. “ About eight years 
ago I began by sending over to Holland a cargo of 


OLD BRISTOL. 


181 


the woollen cloth manufactured at Tiverton, and it 
pleased God to prosper me.” 

“ Tiverton ?” said Lady Cortland. “ Do you know 
that part of Devon ? I have friends living in that 
neighborhood.” 

“ Matters of business have occasionally taken me 
there,” replied Mr. KifBn, “but I cannot often leave 
London on such a long journey.” 

“ It is now a bad time of the year to travel 
through our West Country roads,” said Lady Cort- 
land, ‘‘ but I suppose that you cannot choose when 
business presses?” 

“ I did not come down from London on account 
of my business,” replied Mr. Kiffin. “My present 
journey is in the service of my Master. I have 
been, with other of my brethren, visiting the Bap- 
tist churches in these counties.” 

Sir John gave a little impatient shrug. 

“How is it. Master Kiffin,” he inquired, “that 
a man of your understanding and position can hold 
with these sectarian ideas, fit only for low and ig- 
norant fanatics?” 

“I think,” replied Mr. Kiffin, “that if worldly 
position is to be any test, we have those high in 
rank to support us. The Baptists are well spoken 
of by the Bight Honorable Robert Lord Brooke; 
Admiral Penn is a Baptist, as are also Colonel 
16 


182 


OLD BRISTOL. 


Hutchinson and his amiable wife, the gentle and in- 
telligent Mistress Lucy Hutchinson. So also are 
Lady Fleetwood, the daughter of the Lord General, 
and Lady Waller, the wife of General Sir William 
Waller. Mr. Milton also agrees with us. But the ques- 
tion is not whether nobles or peasants believe with us, 
but rather whether we believe the word of God.” 

“You think, perhaps, that Dr. Jeremy Taylor 
does not believe the Bible,” said Sir John, testily. 

“ I reverence Dr. Taylor as a Christian man, but 
I think that he believes not only the Bible, but a 
great deal that men have added to the Bible,” 
replied Mr. Kiffin. 

At this point Mr. Willoughby came into the 
room, and Sir John turned to him, bidding him 
do battle for his church. 

Mr. Kiffin saw plainly that Sir John’s only object 
was a contest of words to while away an hour, and 
having no desire for idle disputation he turned to 
Lady Cortland and addressed some remark to her 
about her children. Mr. AYilloughby, however, 
was not to be deprived of the opportunity of com- 
ing forward in the conversation, and he turned to 
Bardin, who had hitherto sat a silent listener. 

“ I suppose,” he said, “ that in New England you 
have seen a great many of these sectaries ? When 
they find that their strange notions are not rel- 


OLD BRISTOL. 


183 


ished in the Old World, they take them to the 
New, and doubtless find there a readier market 
for them.” 

“ If you mean the Baptists,” said Dick bluntly, “ I 
believe that, like most good people, they are hated 
wherever they go.” 

“ A sorry plight, truly,” answered Mr. Willoughby 
scornfully, “ but I thought they understood well how 
to make themselves comfortable. The Lord Gene- 
ral, as you call him, is well disposed toward them, 
and I heard they sent in a petition last April to be 
allowed to carry on what they call their worship in 
their own ridiculous manner.” 

“Was the petition granted?” asked Dick eagerly. 
“I have but just landed, and have heard little 
news.” 

“ Ay, that it was,” replied Mr. Willoughby sourly. 
“ They have it their own way in New England, with 
their ‘ liberty of conscience,’ as they call it ; but if 
this tolerance goes on here at home we shall need 
another Archbishop Laud to purify the island. 
These Anabaptist sectarians have been treated too 
mildly.” 

“ Nay, if you had seen what I have. Master Priest, 
you would not call it mild treatment,” cried Dick 
hotly. “ ’Tis but two years ago that I saw a Baptist 
minister whipped in Boston in the colony of Massa- 


184 


OLD BEISTOL. 


chusetts for preaching in the house of an aged mem- 
ber of their church.” 

In his indignation Dick had raised his voice, and 
Mr. Kiffin overheard the last words. 

“ Of whom are you speaking ? Is this some recent 
occurrence ?” he asked with an expression of painful 
interest. 

“ ’Tis two years ago,” answered Dick ; “ and doubt- 
less you have seen the book that Mr. Clarke published 
when he came to England that same year. He en- 
titled it "III News from New England : A Narrative 
of New England's Persecution^ wherein it is declared 
that while Old England is becoming New, New Eng- 
land is becoming Old !’ I remember it well, for I 
had thought, myself, that New England was becom- 
ing Old when I saw that poor gentleman so hardly 
treated.” 

“ Do you mean Dr. John Clarke, who was former- 
ly a physician in London ?” asked Lady Cortland, 
interested in spite of herself. 

Dick looked puzzled : he evidently knew very 
little of Dr. Clarke’s history, but Mr. Kiffin re- 
plied, 

“ It is the same. He went out to New England 
and settled in the Massachusetts Colony, but the in- 
tolerance and persecution that he witnessed there un- 
der the name of religion shocked him, and he re- 


OLD BRISTOL. 


185 


moved with several of his friends. First, they went 
northward, but the winter was terribly severe, and 
the next summer they determined to seek a settle- 
ment farther south.” 

“ How far north do you go to reach this New Eng- 
land ?” asked Sir John, turning to Dick. “ Do you 
get among the icebergs?” 

“ We do not go north at all,” replied Dick : “ we 
have to keep a southerly course. It is a new climate 
as well as a new country. This place where Master 
Clarke and his friends were frozen out during the 
winter is no farther north than some parts of Spain 
and Italy. Indeed, the latitude of Boston in Massa- 
chusetts is farther south than the latitude of Kome.” 

Sir John looked incredulous, but Lady Cortland was 
more interested in Dr. Clarke, whom she had seen 
when she was a girl in London, thaR about the cli- 
mate of a place that she thought of merely as a wild 
and barbarous wilderness. 

“ Where did Dr. Clarke go ?” she asked of Mr. 
Kiffin. 

“ He was advised to go to a place called Aquetneck. 
He and his companions bought it of the Indian sa- 
chems fifteen years ago. They named it the Isle of 
Rhodes, and Dr. Clarke, who had become a Baptist 
and was ordained a preacher of the gospel, as well 
as being physician to the island, founded a Baptist 


186 


OLD BRISTOL. 


church at their chief settlement, Newport. There 
was only one Baptist church in the New World before 
that.” 

“ How strange it seems !” cried Lady Cortland, 
“ and what a world of changes we live in ! I never 
thought when Hr. Clarke came to prescribe for my 
sore throat that he would be the founder of a colony 
across the wide ocean.” 

“ If he had got himself into a safe corner, why did 
he not stay there ?” asked Mr. Willoughby, rather 
grimly. He did not think it best to express his feel- 
ings plainly while Mr. Kiffin, the rich London 
merchant, was listening, but he would have been 
in truth glad to hear that Mr. Clarke as well as 
Mr. Holmes had received a whipping. “ Why did 
he go to Boston ? or is this Aquetneck or Isle of 
Rhodes in Boston?” 

“ You might as well ask if the Isle of Anglesea is 
in London,” cried Hick, laughing outright. “ There 
are full fifty miles between the two places. But 
Master Clarke went to Boston, with Master Roger 
Williams, on his way to England, whither they were 
sent by the colony to settle about a charter. And 
the way he got into trouble was this,” continued 
Hick, leaning forward in his favorite atitude when 
about to tell a story : “ While Hr. Clarke was in 
Boston he went with Master Obadiah Holmes and 


OLD BRISTOL. 


187 


Master Crandall to visit an aged Baptist, Master 
William Witter, who lived near Lynn, a little town 
on the sea-coast about ten miles distant. Master 
Witter was blind as well as aged, and therefore he 
could not attend the Baptist churches in Ehode 
Island at Providence and Newport. Dr. Clarke and 
Master Holmes, being with him on a Sunday, held a 
service at his house, but they were interrupted by 
two constables, who were sent to carry them off to 
Boston, where they were put in prison. Dr. Clarke 
was fined twenty pounds. His friends paid the fine 
without his knowledge, and got him off after he had 
been a fortnight in prison. Master Holmes was fined 
thirty pounds, and he lay in prison from the first of 
July until September. Then he was brought out, and 
whipped so cruelly that it was long ere he recovered 
sufficiently from his wounds to return home. That 
was on the day after the Dolphin got into Salem, 
and I nearly got myself into trouble by speaking my 
mind about it.” 

Dick’s face was flushed with indignation as he fin- 
ished the narrative. Mr. Willoughby was on the 
point of making some sneering comment when Lady 
Cortland again interposed, and inquired whether 
Dr. Clarke had returned to the colony. 

“ Nay,” replied Mr. Kiffin, “ he is still in London 
as their agent.” 


188 


OLD BRISTOL. 


“ My mother highly esteemed him for his skill,” 
said the lady. “ I would that I could take my little 
Edith to him, she is so delicate.” 

Tush !” interposed Sir John ; “ the child is well 
enough. Thou and the German maiden are always 
coddling her ; no wonder she looks pale.” 

At the mention of the German maiden Dick 
flushed, and turning to Lady Cortland he asked 
with some embarrassment and in > low tone if he 
might be permitted to see Mistress Elsa, adding 
hastily, as the lady looked somewhat surprised, 

I am the bearer of a letter for her from Mistress 
Annette Carthew.” 

“ She is at present with my little Edith, who is 
sorely frightened if left alone after dark. But I 
will deliver the letter to her, and she will doubtless 
see you to-morrow morning,” answered Lady Cort- 
land. 

Dick w'ould greatly have preferred to present the 
letter himself, but he was not ready at framing an 
excuse. He therefore produced the packet from an 
inner receptacle, and presented it to Lady Cortland, 
who shortly afterward left the room. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


DICK BARDIN’S DISAPP0INT3IENT. 

rriHE next morning dawned clear and bright; a 
sharp frost had set in during the night, and the 
roads, although very rough, were passable, now that 
the stiff clay mud was hardened sufficiently to bear 
a horse. At an early hour Mr. Kiffin took leave of 
his hosts, with thanks for their courtesy, and set out 
for Taunton, where he had an appointment to meet 
with friends. 

The bright morning sunlight sparkled on the leaf- 
less trees and hedges, where every brown twig was 
encased in a glittering sheath of ice. As Master 
Kiffin rode through the bracing frosty air and con- 
trasted this fairy-like scene with the storm and dark- 
ness of the previous night, his spirits felt the cheering 
influence, and he set himself to review with lively 
gratitude the advances that had been made in the 
spread of the truth for which he so earnestly la- 
bored. 

Fifteen years before the Baptists were in small 
numbers scattered through Pedobaptist congrega- 

189 


190 


OLD BEISTOL. 


tions, and the few who were searching the Holy 
Scriptures diligently to know the exact commands of 
God, and who were determined to follow those com- 
mands, were hindered by persecutions and abuse — 
first, from the bishops of the land under the reign 
of King Charles, and afterward from the Presbyte- 
rian divines under the Parliamentary rule, when 
even such a man as the wise and pious Edmund 
Calamy, in a sermon preached before the House of 
Commons in 1644, cried, “ If you do not labor ac- 
cording to your duty and power to suppress the 
errors and heresies that are spread in the kingdom, 
all these errors are your errors and these heresies 
are your heresies. They are your sins, and God 
calls for a Parliamentary repentance from you this 
day. You are the Anabaptists, you are the Antino- 
mians ; it is you that hold that all religions should 
be tolerated.” 

And the following year that eloquent preacher Dr. 
Cornelius Burgess asked, “ Is it persecution and anti- 
Christianism to engage all to unity and uniformity ? 
Doth Paul bid the Philippians ‘ bew^are of the con- 
cision ’ ? Doth he beseech the Eomans to mark those 
that cause divisions and offences contrary to the doc- 
trine they have received, and to avoid them ? Doth 
he in writing to the Galatians wish, ‘ I would they 
were even cut ofi* that trouble you ’? And is it such 


OLD BRISTOL. 


191 


an heinous ojBTence now for the faithful servants of 
Christ to advise you by the same course ?” 

And the godly Mr. Richard Baxter from his home 
in Kidderminster complains of the hawkers crying 
Baptist books beneath his window, and says, “ I ab- 
hor unlimited liberty and toleration of all, and think 
myself easily able to prove the wickedness of it.” 

In answer to these the Baptist minister, Mr. Sam- 
uel Richardson, asked with shrewd humor, Is there 
no better cure for pain in the head than beating out 
one’s brains ?” 

And another, who is sometimes called a Baptist, 
Mr. John Milton, indignantly cried, 

“New Presbyter is but old Priest writ large.” 

But these evil days were over now, and under the 
rule of Cromwell the religious liberty so earnestly 
preached and prayed for by the Baptists seemed to 
be really approaching. Mr. Kiffin had come down 
from London for the purpose of visiting the Baptist 
churches in the west of England, and from Taunton 
he intended to proceed to AVells, where the first meet- 
ing of the Somerset Particular Baptist Association 
was to be held. This Association, the first organized 
in the West, was to include the churches of Somer- 
set, Wilts, Devon, Gloucester, and Dorset, eighteen 
in number. With prayerful hope Mr. Kifiin looked 
forward to the time when this narrow stream should 


192 


OLD BKISTOL. 


flow like a mighty river, gathering strength and 
spreading blessing through centuries yet to come, 
ever widening and deepening until it reached that 
boundless ocean of eternity where all the obstacles 
and barriers of man’s devising will be swept away 
for ever. 

It was well for him that he could not see the trials 
that the next fifty years had in store, and that, as 
the spires of Taunton rose before him, no glimpse 
into the future could show him that thirty-two years 
from that day, hi^ brave grandson, Benjamin Hew- 
ling, would be dragged through the streets of that 
old town to a martyr’s death. The same Hand that 
mercifully hides future sorrows from our eyes bears 
us up when the blow falls ; and through all his 
chequered life Mr. Kifiin could thankfully acknow- 
ledge that the grace of God was sufficient for him, 
even though his heart should bleed with wounds that 
could never be staunched on this side the grave. 

While Mr. Kiffin pursued his way along Wat- 
ling Street, Dick Bardin was hovering about the 
park that surrounded Thurlton Hall, in the hope 
of meeting Elsa. Lady Cortland had told him that 
Elsa would go out with Edith at an early hour if 
the morning was fair and bright, and he hoped to 
have then a few minutes’ quiet conversation with 
her. He had not waited long when she appeared. 


OLD BBISTOL. 


193 


but the morning was evidently too cold for the 
child, as Elsa was alone. She was wrapped in a 
mantle and carried a little basket on her arm ; the 
cold, frosty air had brought a bright color to her 
cheeks, which deepened as Dick accosted her. 

“You are out betimes. Mistress Elsa,” he said. 
“May I bear your basket for you?” 

Elsa declined his help, for the basket contained 
a dainty dish to tempt the appetite of a poor sick 
woman, and she was afraid to trust it to his careless 
hands; but she did not forbid him to walk beside 
her. 

“Mistress Bertha has written to me that she 
wished to take Annette to London to consult physi- 
cians about her lameness,” said Elsa, “ but Annette 
herself says naught of the plan in her letter. Do 
you know if it is decided ?” 

“I heard it spoken of, but Mistress Carthew is 
loath to consent,” replied Dick. “’Tis Mistress 
Grace Middleton who urges it.” 

“Oh, they should not hesitate a moment if the 
physicians in London could really do any good to 
Annette,” cried Elsa eagerly. “I would that I 
were there to persuade Mistress Carthew!” 

“I would that you were!” exclaimed Dick, who 
had been switching at the icy twigs in rather an 
absent-minded way. 


194 


OLD BKISTOL. 


He spoke with such eagerness that Elsa looked 
at him with surprise, and asked with anxiety, 

“Is anything wrong? Tell me if anything has 
happened.” 

“ No, no, nothing has happened,” said Dick. 
“But surely you do not like being here. Lady 
Cortland is kind and good, I doubt not, but you 
should not be at her beck and call. I did not 
know that you had left Bristol until a week 
ago.” 

He spoke in a discontented, almost an aggrieved, 
tone, as though he thought that Elsa should have 
asked his permission before leaving. 

Elsa’s cheeks flushed, but she hastened to turn 
the conversation from herself by saying, 

“ Are you well pleased with New England? You 
have made a long stay out there.” 

“ It seemed long enough to me,” answered Dick, 
“but I doubt if I should have been much missed 
if I had stayed twice as long;” and he heaved a 
deep sigh. 

Elsa knew very well that Mistress Bardin was 
a devoted mother, and the sentimental tone of this 
last remark suited so ill with the jolly face of the 
handsome young sailor that she broke into a merry 
laugh. 

Dick, who was not in the habit of sighing, and 


OLD BRISTOL. 


195 


who had an inward consciousness that this first 
attempt had not been a very successful one, was 
not at all ofiended by Elsa’s merriment; on the 
contrary, it seemed to set him at his ease. 

“ You see, Elsa,” he exclaimed, plunging at once 
into what he had to say, “ I have done well in the 
colonies, and I have an offer of a nice little house 
there. But what is a house without a mistress? 
and it is for you that I would take it. An empty 
house is cold welcome to a man, but I would not 
mind it, and I could make it very nice, if I could 
think that some day I might see you there when I 
came home from work. May I? Will you?” and 
Dick, finding that he was beginning to stammer in 
his eagerness, and that his heart had begun to beat 
in rather a jarring fashion, could think of nothing 
better to do than to seize Elsa’s hand and look at 
her imploringly. 

“ Oh, Master Bardin, you will upset poor Betsy’s 
broth !” cried Elsa, all her merriment turned into 
fright. 

“Then let me set the basket on this stone,” 
promptly suggested Dick; but Elsa was too glad 
that she had the basket as a refuge to consent to 
give it up. 

“No, no,” she answered; “the broth would get 
cold. Please walk faster.” 


196 


OLD BEISTOL. 


“ Then don’t you mean to answer me at all, Elsa ?” 
asked poor Dick as he strode along to keep up with 
her nimble feet. There was such genuine disappoint- 
ment in his tone that Elsa had no reason to laugh 
this time. Indeed, she was too much startled to feel 
in any mood for laughing now. 

If you do not like to go so far away,” continued 
Dick, “ I could give up the little farm in Massachu- 
setts Colony, and you could live in Bristol ; but you 
see, Elsa, I have to decide now, and it all depends on 
you. I hope you won’t mind my speaking so sud- 
denly, but I thought all these months that I was 
working for you, or at least I hoped it,” said the 
young man humbly, “ and now I find you having to 
work for yourself.” 

All this time Elsa had been tripping quickly over 
the frozen ground with her face carefully turned 
away, but they had now come to the corner beyond 
which old Betsy’s cottage stood. Turning toward 
him, she said in a low, timid voice, 

“It must not depend on me. Master Bardin. 
Please do not say any more. I am very sorry and 
before he could answer she hurried round the corner, 
and in another moment the latch of old Betsy’s gate 
clicked behind her as she entered. 

Dick stood bewildered in the middle of the road, 
but soon he gave himself a little shake and walked 


OLD BRISTOL. 


197 


back toward the wood through which they had just 
passed, for he did not want to cause any annoyance to 
Elsa by letting himself be seen by the cottagers. 

The idea that he would be refused point-blank had 
never occurred to Dick. Not that he was conceited, 
but, like many sailors, he was in the habit of going 
straight forward without stopping to think of conse- 
quences ; and the consequences this time were much 
more painful than he had any idea of ten minutes 
before. He did not feel at all inclined to waste any 
time in sighs now, but, regardless of the cold, he 
sat down on the stone on which he had offered to 
place Elsa^s basket and tried to straighten out his 
thoughts. 

“It was my own fault,” he thought ruefully. 
“ If only I had come back to England a year ago ! 
But I hadn’t a penny then. I wish I knew why she 
went off like that. It sounded as though she w^as 
going to cry when she said she was sorry. Well, 
I am not going to make her feel miserable. If she 
don’t like me, that is all, and she is not to blame. 
But I think I will stay on the sea now.” 

He dropped his chin on his hand, and fancied that 
he was thinking out his plans under this new state of 
affairs. But Dick deceived himself, for he was not 
much addicted to thinking, and just now he was not 
thinking at all, only feeling miserable, and before 

17 « 


198 


OLD BRISTOL. 


very long he began to feel cold too. He got up, 
therefore, with a little shake, and was preparing to 
return to the hall when he caught sight through the 
bare trees of the gray mantle in which Elsa was 
wrapped. She had left the path, and seemed to be 
making a short cut througli the woods to the hall. 
But as she drew nearer Dick discovered that she was 
not alone. Mr. Willoughby came crashing over the 
dry branches and frosty ground, and was now at her 
side. Dick felt a strong inclination to pitch Mr. 
Willoughby into the pond, and Elsa did not seem to 
desire his company, for after a few words she began 
to hasten back to the path. But he easily kept by 
her side, and under pretence of taking her basket he 
had laid his hand on her arm to detain her, when 
Dick suddenly met them. 

“ I will escort Mistress Elsa home,” he said short- 
ly ; and there was no mistaking the look of relief 
that came over Elsa’s troubled face. 

Mr. Willoughby looked very black, and was on 
the point of making an angry retort when the clat- 
ter of a pony’s hoofs was heard, and Elsa cried hur- 
riedly, 

“ There goes Ralph ! Lady Cortland will be sore- 
ly displeased. She was vexed beyond measure that 
he rode out alone last night. Pray, Master Wil- 
loughby, run back through the wicket to old Bet- 


OLD BKISTOL. 


199 


sy’s cottage; he must go round by the park-gate, 
and you will be in time to stop him.” 

Mr. Willoughby muttered a few words in a sneer- 
ing tone ; however, he had no choice but to go, which 
he did with no very kindly feelings toward his unruly 
charge. Elsa and Dick were again left alone to- 
gether. 

“ Does that man annoy you ?” asked Dick, look- 
ing fiercely after his retreating figure. 

“ No, no ; that is — I think — Oh, I wish I could 
go back to Bristol !” cried poor Elsa. 

“ If you would only think a little of what I said, 
Elsa !” replied Dick, driven almost desperate by his 
wish to shield Elsa, and the knowledge that, as things 
stood, he could do her no good. “ Do you dislike me 
so much that you cannot even give me a word of 
hope?” 

Elsa had gathered her mantle about her and was 
walking rapidly toward the hall, but after a few mo- 
ments she said in a low voice, 

“ I did not say that I disliked you. Master Bardin 
— you were my first kind friend when I was a help- 
less stranger — but — ” She hesitated a moment, then 
turning her flushed face toward him, she continued 
quickly : “ Old Betsy told me this morning, when I 
read a few verses to her from the Bible, that' she 
used to like such things when she was a girl, but her 


200 


OLD BRISTOL. 


man cared naught for Bible-reading and praying, and 
she lost the habit.” 

The joy that had lighted up Dick’s face at her 
first timid words was again clouded over. He was 
too honest and too reverent to urge her to teach 
him, for he very well knew that he would think 
more of the teacher than of her words, but he did 
say, 

“ I am not a bad fellow in the main, Elsa, and you 
should always follow your own inclinations. You 
know that I don’t believe in persecuting men for the 
sake of a little more or a little less water, nor in set- 
ting up the Covenanters as so much better than the 
bishops.” 

“ I cannot talk to you as I ought,” replied Elsa, 
looking distressed, “ but to love and obey my dear 
Lord is my life, and you think it only my fancy, 
Master Bardin. There is a great difference between 
us. We should make each other unhappy, and that 
would be terrible.” Her voice faltered and she 
stopped, but before Dick could speak she said hur- 
riedly, “Good-bye. Please do not follow me; we 
are close to the house and she sped away and dis- 
appeared through a low door leading into the serv- 
ants’ hall. 

Dick walked slowly toward the stables. He did 
not feel quite as despondent as when she left him at 


OLD BRISTOL. 


201 


old Betsy’s cottage, but the prospect was not a 
bright one. 

“ Why should not everybody go their own way ? 
What does it matter as long as they don’t trouble 
other people ?” he said to himself as he entered the . 
stall where his horse was standing. 

“ Her ahn wai !” grumbled old Babb, in his thick 
Somerset dialect, as he was cleaning Dick’s horse. 
“ Her had better be zhure an it’s ta raight un. A 
vamous pickle her gat in a-vollyin o’ her ahn wai 
last naight. I zim her had a girt toomble i’ the 
muck, but none but a vule would ha’ coom they 
roads arter dark wi’oot a-knawing o’ they.” 


CHAPTER XVIL 


JACK STONE AND ANNETTE AT MISTRESS 
BARDINAS. 

D ick was too restless to remain any longer at 
Thurlton, and he quickly interrupted Babb’s 
slow labor of cleaning his horse. As soon as the 
animal was saddled and bridled he only waited to 
know if Lady Cortland had any message to send to 
Bristol, and before noon he was off. The hard frost 
had improved the roads, and on the second day he 
reached Bristol, and astonished his mother and Mis- 
tress Bertha by walking into the room as they were 
sitting in the little parlor by the fire, saving candles 
by knitting in the winter twilight. Annette, who 
had been spending the afternoon with her aunt, 
was curled up in the deep low window-seat, trying to 
read by the last gleams of day. 

“ Thou art home sooner than I thought for, lad,” 
cried Mistress Bardin, bustling about to get a light. 

“Ay, mother,” answered Dick, “but none the 
less welcome, I hope. ’Tis a cold night and I am 
hungry.” 

202 


OLD BRISTOL. 


203 


“ Thou art only the more welcome when least ex- 
pected, and that thou knowest well,” cried his moth- 
er, stroking his brown curly hair as he stooped and 
kissed her. “I will see at once to the supper.” 

“ Did you see Elsa, Dick ? Did you give her my 
letter ?” asked Annette eagerly. “ Is she well ?” 

“ Oh, ay, she looked well,” answered Dick, with 
an attempt at a careless tone that was not very suc- 
cessful. — “ Of whom were you talking when I came 
in. Mistress Bertha? Methought I heard Master 
Hollister’s name.” 

Mistress Bardin gave a quick glance at her son as 
she left the room, but he did not appear to notice it. 
As she closed the door behind her she shook her head 
sorrowfully. If Dick intended to avoid questions 
about his own proceedings, he had certainly taken 
the best plan, for Mistress Bertha’s cap-frill began to 
quiver as soon as he mentioned Master Hollister’s 
name. She drew herself up still more erect than 
usual, though even under ordinary circumstances she 
would never dream of touching the high, straight 
back of the chair in which she sat. 

“ Master Hollister is getting no good in London,” 
she said severely. He went up there when the new 
Parliament was called last spring, and now he writes 
very strange things in his letters. I misdoubt sadly 
that he is getting far beyond his Bible. He ever 


204 


OLD BRISTOL. 


liked to be the foremost, like Diotrephes, who, John 
tells us, loved pre-eminence and prated against the 
disciples with malicious words.” 

A noise of heavy boots stamping outside the door 
interrupted Mistress Bertha, and in another moment 
the long nose and heavy frost-rimed moustache of 
Jack Stone — or, as he was now called. Master Stone 
— appeared in the doorway. 

“ Thy mother hath sent me to fetch thee home, lit- 
tle lass,” he said in a marvellously gentle tone that 
came rather oddly from the lips of the gruff soldier, 
but he always spoke tenderly to Annette. 

Nay, ’tis too late,” cried Mistress Bertha. “ The 
child cannot go home to-night ; she shall sleep with 
me. But come in and be seated. Master Stone.” 

Mistress Bardin appeared at the same moment and 
added her entreaties ; and Jack, who liked nothing 
better than a chat with Mistress Bertha, was easily 
persuaded to enter the cozy little room and seat him- 
self on the wooden settle near the chimney, while 
Mistress Bardin and the little servant-maid brought 
in the supper. 

“ It is this new Quaker doctrine that is setting 
some people crazy now,” said Mistress Bertha, re- 
turning to the subject of her interrupted conver- 
sation. “ I cannot tell exactly what it is, but they 
fancy that they have a good deal more knowledge 


OLD BRISTOL. 


205 


than the Bible gives. But I say that all the know- 
ledge that God means to give to sinful creatures is 
put in the Bible, and the rest comes under the head 
of the works of darkness.” 

“ But perhaps those Quakers are honest people,” 
interposed Mistress Bardin. “They may be mis- 
taken.” 

“Then the sooner they are shaken out of their 
mistakes the better,” answered Mistress Bertha; 
“wholesome correction is needed for grown people 
as well as for children.” 

“Nay, Mistress Bertha,” cried Dick, “you would 
be as bad as the Massachusetts people, who whip and 
fine and imprison those who dare to hold different 
religious opinions from theirs ; but I believe that no 
country can stand without toleration in matters of 
religion.” 

Master Stone had remained quietly listening until 
now, but here he said, with a shrewd glance at 
Dick, 

“ ’Tis a good opinion, young man, as far as it goes, 
but pray tell me who is to do the tolerating. Which 
of these different sects is to say, ‘ I am quite right, 
and I am the ruler, but I will tolerate the rest ’ ?” 

“ Well,” answered Dick, a little taken aback, “ it 
was the bishops ten years ago, and then it was the 
Presbyterians ; at least, they thought they had the 
18 


206 


OLD BEISTOL. 


right to say who should and who should not be tol- 
erated.’^ 

“ But where did they get that right ?” asked J ack. 
“ When I came to Bristol I did not thank every man 
I met for his toleration in allowing me to walk the 
streets. I am a free man among free men ; and why 
should -it not be the same with religious beliefs ? I 
don’t say whether the Quakers and the Baptists are 
right or wrong in their particular reading of the 
Bible, but I do say that the Baptists are the nearest 
to the right in the matter of religious freedom. The 
unbigoted in other sects tell you that they are will- 
ing to tolerate those who hold to a different belief, 
but the Baptist will tell you that all have equal 
rights, and that neither he nor they have any busi- 
ness to tolerate or not to tolerate. — You should know 
all this. Mistress Bertha, for it was from your brother 
that I learned it. He always was a thoughtful man, 
but it was surprising how his mind seemed to expand 
when he took up his Bible without the props and 
supports wherewith men clog it.” 

Mistress Bertha’s stern face softened at the men- 
tion of her beloved brother; but Dick, finding himself 
rather out of his depth on this subject, turned to an- 
other. 

“You say. Master Stone,” he began, “that you 
do not know much about the different beliefs and 


OLD BRISTOL. 


207 


doctrines. I do not see why it should make any 
difference, if a man tries to keep a straight course, 
what he calls himself. If I try to do my duty to 
God and man, what difference does it make whether 
I sign the Covenant or the Thirty-nine Articles, 
and whether a river or a bowl of water is used to 
baptize me?” 

At this question Jack turned to Annette, who, 
seated on a low bench near him, had been an inter- 
ested listener to the conversation. 

“Well, little maiden,” he said, putting his hand 
on her hair and looking into her eager face, “111 
w^arrant me thou hast something wise in that little 
pate. What shall I answer him?” 

“ I was only thinking,” answered Annette, blush- 
ing a little, “if Dick were teaching a man to sail 
a ship, how would it do if the man just kept the 
ship on her course and never attended to his direc- 
tions about sails and currents and winds?” 

“ He would be as likely to land at the North Pole 
as at Salem,” answered Dick with a little laugh. 

“The child is not far wrong,” said Jack musingly. 
“ If the directions are given to us, I suppose it is 
meant that we should read them, and if we read 
them, I suppose we ought to obey. A soldier and 
a sailor can do that much of reasoning — eh. Master 
Dick?” 


208 


OLD BEISTOL. 


“ But I am not a bishop or a presbyter, or even 
a preacher, to spend my time hunting out which of 
all these different creeds is right,” said Dick. “ I 
must take the word of some learned doctor.” 

“If you take his teaching simply because he is 
learned, and if you cannot find time to read your 
Bible yourself,” replied Jack, somewhat warmly, 
“ then Luther might have saved himself all the 
trouble that he took to put the Bible into the hands 
of every one, and the brave Gustavus need never 
have died fighting for the German Protestants. 
The Jesuits are learned enough to read the Bible 
in Greek and Hebrew, and then give you what they 
think proper.” 

“ Surely, Master Stone, you would not uphold the 
Jesuits?” cried Mistress Bardin, who caught these 
last words, and in her horror almost dropped the 
dish of bacon she was placing on the table. 

Jack had no little difficulty in reassuring her, 
but all further discussion was now brought to an 
end as they drew their chairs up to the supper- 
table. Annette had been for some minutes quietly 
turning over the leaves of Mistress Bardin’s Bible, 
that lay with her knitting on a small table, and 
when she took her place at the table by the side 
of Dick she slipped a piece of folded paper into his 
hand, saying in a low tone. 


OLD BRISTOL. 


209 


“Please look at these some time when you are 
alone.” 

Dick took the paper with some degree of curiosity, 
and later in the evening, after Jack Stone had 
departed, he went to his room to examine it with- 
out interruption. It contained three texts of Scri})- 
ture, written out in Annette’s plain round hand- 
writing. 

The first one Dick knew, for it was Luther’s text 
and Elsa’s favorite : “ For God so loved the world 
that he gave his only-begotten Son, that whosoever 
believeth on him should not perish, but have ever- 
lasting life.” 

But the next, Dick, who was no diligent student 
of the Bible, did not know : “ Greater love hath no 
man than this, that a man lay down his life for his 
friends.” 

And the last particularly arrested his attention : 
“ If ye love me keep my commandments.” 

“ I wonder if she really found those in the 
Bible?” thought Dick to himself; and after a little 
musing he took out a Bible that his mother had 
given him when he first went to sea. The binding 
looked rather worn and dingy, but this was more 
from packing than from use ; for, though Dick never 
sailed without it, he very seldom opened it. Now, 
however, he began to read with interest, and it was 
18 * 0 


210 


OLD BRISTOL. 


not until his candle began to flicker in the socket 
that he closed the book. 

The next morning, as he was escorting Annette 
home, he asked her why she had given him those 
texts. 

“ Do you think that I do not try to keep God’s 
commandments?” he said. “You do not know 
what bad fellows there are in the world when you 
think me so bad.” 

“Oh, Dick,” cried Annette, “I do not think you 
bad at all ; only when you were talking last night I 
thought that you could not quite understand how 
much the Saviour loved us. You know, Dick, when 
father died I did not want to forget a thing that he 
had ever told me to do or not to do. He knew best 
whether they were important things, and it was the 
only way in which I could show how I loved him. 
Don’t you think we ought to give as much heed to 
the commands our Saviour left us when he died for 
us ? When he tells us to keep his commands, don’t 
you think we ought to take the trouble to find out 
what they are, and keep them just because they are 
his ?” 

Dick did not answer for a few moments ; then he 
said, 

“ I will think about it.” 

After this Annette, who was rather more shy 


OLD BRISTOL. 


211 


about expressing her opinion than she used to be two 
or three years before, let the subject drop. 

A few days afterward, Dick, who seemed to be 
seized with a restless fit since his visit to Thurlton, 
left for London, saying that he would return in two 
or three weeks. But in the course of December he 
wrote to his mother that he had been offered the 
command of a ship bound for the West Indies, and 
that he was making preparations to sail without 
delay. 

This month of December brought important 
changes in public affairs. After much talk and 
turmoil the Parliament was at last dissolved on the 
14th of the month, and four days later Oliver Crom- 
well was inaugurated as “Lord Protector of the 
Commonwealth of England, Scotland, and Ireland.’* 

Mistress Bertha shook her head ominously over 
this new title. 

“ I hope you will not rue the day,” she said to 
Jack Stone, who brought the information, “ but Mr. 
Cromwell is plain Mr. Cromwell. Now, when he 
was general I gave him his title, but you say he put 
off his sword wLen Major-General Lambert kneeled 
and presented him with the civil sword in the scab- 
bard. God forgive the misguided man, that he 
should kneel to a poor fellow-mortal ! He would be 
better employed kneeling at his prayers; and so 


212 


OLD BRISTOL 


would Mr. Cromwell. A velvet suit and a chair of 
state, forsooth ! ’Tis not so long since I heard that 
he went without a hatband and his coat was scarce 
decently brushed.’^ 

“ But we must have a head to the nation,” argued 
Jack, “ else with whom are foreign nations to treat ? 
There is no man fitter than the Lord Protector, and 
little enough power they give him. He had to 
swear to the forty-two articles of the Form of Gov- 
ernment, and that gives all power to the Parliament. 
He may not negative their laws.” 

“ The Lord Almighty is my Lord Protector,” an- 
swered Mistress Bertha solemnly, “and I will give 
that title neither to Mr. Cromwell nor to any other 
living man.” 

Annette, who was present, interposed to prevent 
the discussion from growing warm, as it sometimes 
did between her aunt and Master Stone. 

“Master Hollister came in to see Cousin Hugh 
yesterday,” she said, “and. Aunt Bertha, he told me 
of a strange drink that they make in London now. 
It is made of berries browned over the fire and 
then ground up and boiled in water. He calls it 
coffee, and he says that a Master Constantine, a 
Grecian, makes the beverage and sells it at a house 
in Devereux Court. Master Hollister says that it is 
not at all like ale, but it is marvellously good.” 


OLD BRISTOL. 


213 


“Master Hollister has sucked in more noxious 
food in London than his ground coffee-berries,” 
retorted Mistress Bertha. “ His heart is full of 
discontent and his head is full of new notions. I 
have heard that he said that the Bible was the 
plague of England. ’Tis a sin to repeat his 
wicked words, but that is what comes of Quaker 
doctrines.” 

“ I have heard that Master Dennis Hollister has 
gone far astray,” answered Jack — “Mr. Ewins is 
sadly grieved for him — but I doubt if it is the real 
Quaker doctrine that he has. There are Jesuits who 
will take any cloak to do evil. And since the peo- 
ple will have naught of music and candles and 
vestments, the Papists run now to the other ex- 
treme, and, taking the cloak of those who are least 
like themselves, they cry down all ceremonies and 
tell the people to hearken only to the voice within 
them. But the true Friends — as they call themselves 
in their quaint speech — do not speak blasphemous 
words of the Bible, though they say they must 
act and speak as they are moved by the Spirit; 
and I fear they do not take enough care in the 
study of the Bible. It seems to me that the Spirit 
meant to move us . by what it caused to be writ 
therein.” 

“ ’ Tis all a delusion and a snare of the Evil One,” 


214 


OLD BRISTOL. 


replied Mistress Bertha. “The apostle Paul wrote 
to the church at Corinth that Satan himself is trans- 
formed into an angel of light, therefore it is no great 
thing if his ministers also be transformed as the 
ministers of righteousness; and it suits our times 
as well as the times of the Corinthians. But he 
told them also that their end will be according to 
their works; and it will be the same now.” 

But, to the great displeasure of Mistress Bertha 
and the distress of Mr. Ewins, the trouble begun by 
Master Hollister did not stop there. The church 
could no longer meet at his house after the words 
that he had spoken, but he did not cease to cause 
them annoyance. He harbored men who came to 
the city and entered the churches, frequently inter- 
rupting the preacher in his sermon. Though some, 
like George Fox, were earnest and sincere men, 
many were found to be disguised Jesuits. Mr. 
Ewins was frequently troubled with such inter- 
ruptions, and they caused no little annoyance to 
Mr. Hazzard, who was sometimes stopped and re- 
proved in the midst of the service. 

One morning, when Francis had stopped to see 
his aunt before he went to school, he was standing 
by the window looking into the street when sud- 
denly he exclaimed, 

“ That man is a Papist, Aunt Bertha, I know, for 


OLD BRISTOL. 


215 


Master Terrill asked Michael Connelly, who goes to 
our school, and Michael knew him, and said that he 
was an Irish Papist. But he must be a Quaker too, 
for our teacher. Master Haynes, sent Master Terrill 
to take down a Quaker discourse in character, and 
he found this man appointing the place for the next 
meeting.” 

“ Master Terrill would have done better if he had 
kept away. He will find but little character, and 
that very bad, if he gets among the Papists,” an- 
swered Mistress Bertha. 

“ No, no, Aunt Bertha,” cried Francis ; “ I don’t 
mean that kind of character. Master Terrill can 
write a whole discourse in quick writing in the time 
that one is speaking.” 

“ Well ! well ! go to school now ; it is after the 
hour,” returned Mistress Bertha, who did not like 
to be taught by her little nephew. 

But it was not so easy to dismiss the trouble as 
to send Francis away, and soon after this about 
twenty members of Mr. Ewins’s church went off 
to join with Master Hollister. The apparent evil 
was, however, turned to good by the overruling 
hand of God, for the remaining sixty members 
held more closely to the Scriptures, and many days 
of fasting and prayer were kept, and many and 
fervent were the petitions that they might have 


216 


OLD BRISTOL. 


greater faith toward God, and wisdom to act 
rightly toward those who had been drawn away. 

Several members of Mr. Ewins’s church had al- 
ready expressed a desire to be baptized. One had 
joined wdth the baptized congregation in the Pithay, 
but as more and more became convinced that infant 
baptism was an ordinance of man, and not of God’s 
appointing, it was decided that they should be bap- 
tized by Mr. Jessey in London or elsewhere, and still 
be retained in church fellowship. The trials and 
troubles that came upon the church during this 
year, 1654, caused many to question more closely 
if they were following strictly in the footsteps of 
Christ. Among the first of these was Mr. Ewins 
himself; two others, deacons in the church, Mr. Pur- 
nell and Mr. Moone, were always convinced in their 
own minds that the Bible sanctioned only believers’ 
baptism, but they had been content to let the matter 
rest there. Now, however, Mr. Ewins, with Mr. 
Purnell and Mr. Moone, decided to go to London 
to be baptized by Mr. Henry Jessey. 


CHAPTER XVIIL 

DISCOVERY AT THE INN. 

D uring all this time the only news that Elsa 
received of her friends in Bristol was through 
not very frequent letters, and the only mention of 
Dick was w^hen Annette wrote that the ship of which 
he had taken command would not sail before Janu- 
ary, and that he had come down for a few days to 
Bristol to say good-bye. Elsa knew that the ship 
was bound for the West Indies, for Annette had 
mentioned this, but she had not told her the name 
of the vessel or its owners, and as the months wore 
on to spring verdure and summer bloom Elsa looked 
in vain for further tidings of Dick. She once ven- 
tured to ask Lady Cortland where the West Indies 
lay, but all she gained was a very hazy idea of a far- 
off land abounding in tropical plants, wild beasts, 
and naked savages. She did not dare to hint at her 
anxiety in her letters to Annette, but she secretly 
fretted over the dangers of the sea and the no less 
terrible dangers of the wild country to which Dick 
19 217 


218 


OLD BRISTOL. 


had gone, until even Sir John noticed that she was 
growing thin and pale, and that a look of sad pa- 
tience was taking the place of her former bright 
smiles. 

“ Poor child, thou must not look so woe-begone,’^ 
said Lady Cortland as she came upon Elsa standing 
by the large window in the hall one cold November 
evening, just a year after Dick’s departure from 
Thurlton. “ ’Tis a cold night and a cheerless pros- 
pect without, but we must have bright fires within. 
Art thou pining for thy friends and thy little 
Annette ?” 

“It is long since I have seen them,” answered 
Elsa sadly. 

“ True,” replied Lady Cortland ; “ and I too 
would gladly see my poor Margaret again. What 
sayest thou if we go up to London in the spring, and 
leave thee in Bristol on our way?” 

“ Oh, is it possible ?” cried Elsa, clasping her 
hands tightly, while her blue eyes shone with pleas- 
ure through the mist of tears that had clouded 
them. 

Lady Cortland smiled at the change that her 
words had wrought. 

“I thought I could bring back the old Elsa, 
instead of the pale and downcast maiden,” she said 
playfully. “ Mr. Willoughby will fancy you are 


OLD BRISTOL. 


219 


pining for him, but it is too late for that now. 
Since you would none of him, he has offered his 
heart and hand to old Betty’s granddaughter: the 
old dame came up this morning to tell me. Do 
not let it break thy heart.” Then suddenly drop- 
ping her bantering tone, she added gravely, “We 
must go to London as soon as the roads are good. 
Edith grows weaker rather than stronger, and Sir 
John has half consented that we go in the spring 
to consult the physicians.” 

While she was speaking a door opened at the 
end of the hall, and little Edith came toward them. 
Her small figure looked younger than she really 
was, and she moved slowly and wearily, without 
any of the vivacity and merriment of childhood. 

“ My pet, it is too cold for you here,” said Lady 
Cortland, hastening toward her; “your lips are 
blue. Come to my room — and, Elsa, run, fetch my 
warm mantle to wrap her.” 

“ I am always cold when these dreary, dark days 
begin,” answered the child with weary petulance. 
“ I don’t want the mantle ; I want Elsa to tell me 
about the ship that brought her to London, and 
about how Annette fell from the steps. Why can’t 
Annette come here to play with me? Kalph is too 
rough.” 

“Poor Annette is lame,” replied her mother as 


220 


OLD BRISTOL. 


she led the little girl up stairs to her own chamber, 
where a cheerful fire was blaziug. 

“ I should not mind that. I do not care to run 
about,” answered Edith as she curled herself up in 
a chair made easy with pillows and cushions and 
spread her chilly little hands to the heat. — “Now, 
Elsa, begin.” 

While Elsa began the oft-repeated story of 
Annette’s accident Lady Cortland threw herself 
on a couch in the shadow, where she could watch 
the delicate face of her little girl without letting 
her own anxiety be seen, and gave herself up to her 
own thoughts and plans. She was startled from her 
musing by hearing Edith say, 

“Elsa, how soon do you suppose that God will 
make Annette’s knee well, so that she can walk 
without a crutch?” 

“I do not know,” replied Elsa ; “ perhaps God 
means that it should never get well on earth ; but 
Annette is bright and happy. We can only pray 
to God to do as he sees will be best for her.” 

“ I don’t think I should like that,” replied 
Edith thoughtfully ; but will Annette be lame in 
heaven ?” 

“ Oh no,” replied Elsa ; “ no one is sick or maimed 
there.” 

“ Then, Elsa, I think we had better all go to heav- 


OLD BRISTOL. 


221 


enat once,” she answered with decision; “and I shall 
put that in my prayers to-night.” 

“My child,” cried Lady Cortland, starting up 
in terror, “do not talk like that! You make me 
shiver.” 

“Would you not like to go, mother?” asked 
Edith. 

But Lady Cortland burst into a violent fit of cry- 
ing, and gathering the child in her arras she would 
not leave her all the rest of the evening. In vain 
Elsa tried to calm her fears. She was convinced that 
Edith was dying, and even after she had fallen into 
a peaceful, healthy sleep her mother hung over her, 
watching every breath. 

In her anxiety and eagerness Lady Cortland was 
now desirous to set out at once for London with the 
child ; but Sir John declared that a journey in the 
winter would do more harm than good, and to re- 
assure her he sent for a physician from Taunton to 
come and give his advice. 

Edith had taken a slight cold, and the doctor or- 
dered that she should remain in her room for a few 
days ; and this added to Lady Cortland’s fears. Elsa 
was now kept so closely in attendance on mother and 
daughter that she scarcely knew how the time passed 
until the middle of the winter was fairly reached. 
Then a startling piece of news came to turn Lady 


222 


OLD BRISTOL. 


Cortland’s thoughts into a new current. Walter was 
married to a young French lady. The letter con- 
taining this information was from Walter himself. 
It was very short, and the closing sentence caused 
his mother an undefined fear: 

“ If there be any in England loyal enough to heed 
their king’s letter I may ere long present to you 
your new daughter. Till then my place is near the 
king.” 

A few gentle, loving lines from the new daughter, 
Louise, relieved the mother’s heart of one fear ; he 
had married a Protestant. 

“ But what does he mean about heeding the king’s 
letter and coming back to England ?” she asked of 
her husband. 

“ ’Tis the letter written by the king last April,” 
answered Sir John, “ in the which he gives free leave 
and liberty to any man who will, by sword, pistol, 
or poison, destroy the life of Oliver Cromwell. I 
like not such doings. A fair fight is manly and hon- 
orable, but assassination in the dark is mean and 
cowardly. Nay, Walter is wrong ; that is not loy- 
alty. Let the king come to claim his own, and pun- 
ish the regicide as he deserves, but none of this un- 
derhand work for me. The country is at peace now, 
and we will go to London in April. Write to Wal- 
ter, that he may meet us there with his new French 


OLD BEISTOL. 


223 


bride, and then he can return with us to Thurkon 
Hall. He will be better employed in quiet country 
life here than in dancing about among those frivo- 
lous French Papists. He will fight none the better, 
if fighting comes, for living in idleness now.” 

The letter was sent, but no answer came from 
Walter. 

Early in April the heavy family-coach was brought 
and laden with the cumbrous boxes. Lady Cortland 
and Elsa, with Edith and Ralph, were seated inside, 
while Sir John, who never would go in a coach if 
he could sit on a horse, rode in front, followed by 
his serving-men. 

The roads were still very bad, and it was not un- 
til the third day that the travellers reached Bristol. 
Elsa’s heart beat quickly with joy as she saw the 
wooded cliffs that overhang the Avon and the spire 
of St. Mary Redclifie rising before her. The heavy, 
lumbering coach could not thread the narrow Bristol 
streets, and Sir John was in haste to reach London ; 
so Lady Cortland had sent forward a messenger to re- 
quest Mrs. Carthew to meet her at an inn outside the 
city-walls where they intended to stop for the night. 

As the horses clattered into the courtyard of the 
Boar, Elsa caught sight of a stout nag bearing a 
lady seated on a pillion behind a boy whom at first 
she hardly recognized as Francis. But in Mrs. Car- 


224 


OLD BRISTOL. 


thew’s gentle face, which was mild and patient as 
ever, Elsa could scarce discern any change, though 
Lady Cortland broke into compassionate weeping as 
her friend dismounted and came toward her in her 
heavy widow’s garb. 

Sir John, who had little liking for any display of 
emotion, went over to Frank, who stood patting his 
horse, and left the ladies to follow the hostess of the 
Boar, who with many tokens of respect conducted 
them to her best apartments. Frank declined Sir 
John’s invitation to come in and take some refresh- 
ments, for it was late in the day, and he knew that 
his mother wished to return before the dusk and 
dampness of evening came on. 

“ ’Tis a stout nag, but he can hardly carry three. 
I will tell one of these lazy fellows to saddle a horse 
and carry Mistress Elsa back with you. She would 
never stay here the night through when her friends 
are so nigh,” said Sir John. 

“ Master Stone was to meet us here to take Mis- 
tress Elsa,” replied Frank, •“ but I always take my 
mother.” 

“ Thou art a fine fellow, my boy, and very like thy 
father,” said Sir John, looking with approval at the 
manly bearing of the hoy. 

Frank’s face grew red at this unexpected praise, 
and he answered with a glow of pride. 


OLD BRISTOL. 


225 


“ There is none whom I would rather resemble.” 

Then, fearing lest he had been over-bold, he drew 
in a little and took to stroking his horse again. But 
Sir John clapped his shoulder, saying, 

“ That’s right ! that’s right, my boy ! The best 
of us make mistakes, but there never was a better 
man, through all mistakes, than your father. — Come 
here, Ralph,” he cried to his boy, who had escaped 
from his mother’s watchfulness to get among the 
horses again. “See, here is a young fellow who 
knows as much about a horse as thou. I’ll be bound, 
though he has lived in the city of Bristol all his 
life.” 

Sir John knew how to make two boys friendly. 
If he had told them that he hoped they would be 
friends because their fathers were friends, it is likely 
each would have looked sheepishly at the other and 
sulked into opposite corners as soon as his back was 
turned. As it was, Ralph gave a glance at Frank 
out of his bright brown eyes, which Frank returned 
with one full stare from his honest blue ones, and 
then they fell to discoursing on the merits of their 
horses. At length Mrs. Carthew and Elsa appeared 
in the doorway, and at the same moment the clatter 
of hoofs resounded along the road, and the tall fig- 
ure of Master Stone came in sight, urging his horse 
to the top of his speed. 

P 


226 


OLD BRISTOL. 


Frank was mounted, with his mother behind him, 
before Jack came up. Elsa was still standing in the 
doorway wrapped in her gray mantle and with her 
face partly hidden, as Edith clung about her. Jack 
sprang off his horse with a hasty apology for being 
so late, and Mrs. Carthew called, 

“ Come, Elsa, it is growing late, and Master Stone 
is waiting to mount you.” 

Unclasping the child’s arms, she turned her face, 
flushed and a little tearful through all her joy, for 
she was sorry to part from her young charge, and 
stepped out into the full light of the inn-courtyard. 
Master Stone had thrown his bridle to an hostler and 
advanced to meet Elsa, when suddenly he started for- 
ward with an eager cry, but in a moment checked 
himself and gazed helplessly from Mrs. Carthew to 
Elsa. Mrs. Carthew, who was dropping a coin into 
the hostler’s hand, did not notice this, but Elsa 
looked half frightened, and the stable-boys, who 
were still busied about the Cortland coach, stared 
and began to nudge each other. 

Jack heard their whispers, and they seemed to re- 
call him to himself, for, passing his hand rapidly over 
his brow, he advanced with an apology to Elsa, and 
almost before she could collect her thoughts she 
found herself on the pillion and the two horses 
quietly cantering out of the inn-yard. 


OLD BRISTOL. 


227 


The little party rode along silently. This meeting 
with her friend for the first time since her widow- 
hood had brought back vividly before Mrs. Car- 
thew’s mind all the sad events of that September 
month in 1651, and she rode on in silence and sad- 
ness. As for Master Stone, he sat erect in the saddle 
before Elsa, neither turning his head nor speaking a 
word till they came to Bristol Bridge ; there, as they 
clattered along the roadway between the houses that 
lined the bridge, Frank asked him a question, to 
w’hich he replied in such a strange, grufi* voice that 
Mrs. Carthew turned to look at him in surprise, 
while Elsa gave a little sigh of relief as she saw the 
projecting windows of the old Carthew house not far 
off up the steep High Street. 

When they reached the house both Annette and 
Mistress Bertha were waiting to greet and welcome 
Elsa, and after the first warm salutations they led 
her away to the old nursery, where, as the door 
opened, she saw a bright-eyed little lady holding 
in her arms a fine boy, who was crowing and stretch- 
ing out his chubby hands to a rattle that little Av- 
ice shook before him. Mistress Middleton gave the 
maiden a warm welcome, and held up proudly her 
merry babe, while A vice pretended to be shy and 
hid her face in her sister’s gown. 

In the bustle of arrival and the joy of being once 


228 


OLD BRISTOL. 


more at home Elsa forgot the stern face of the old 
war-worn soldier that had frightened her, but as they 
assembled round the supper-table Mistress Middleton 
noticed a vacant seat and inquired where her uncle 
had gone. 

“ He promised this afternoon that he would come 
and sup with us to-night, as father is out of town 
and he is all alone in the old house.” 

But Master Stone did not appear, and no one had 
seen him since he rode away from the door to put up 
the horse. 

Mrs. Carthew was a little alarmed, for she remem- 
bered how strangely he had looked and spoken. 
After supper was over Francis came behind her, 
as she was sitting with Avice on her lap and Elsa 
and Annette beside her, and whispered softly in her 
ear that some one wished to speak with her in the 
library. She rose at once and went quickly to the 
next room. 

A soft April shower was falling without, and the 
room was growing dark in the twilight, but she rec- 
ognized the figure of Master Stone leaning against 
the window. He came forward to meet her as she 
entered, and leading her to a chair he began ap- 
ruptly : 

“ Mrs. Carthew, who is this maiden ?” 

“ Elsa ?” asked Mrs. Carthew, a little bewildered 


OLD BRISTOL. 


229 


by the suddenness of the question and the strange- 
ness of his tone. “ Do you mean Elsa Stein, Master 
Stone 

She spoke rather to give herself time to collect her 
thoughts, but as she heard her own words a light 
seemed to break upon her and she cried out breath- 
lessly, 

“ Oh, is it possible ? Can it be true T* 

“ You must tell me that,” replied Jack hoarsely. 
“ She is the image of my Greta, only this maiden’s 
eyes are blue like the sky, and my wife’s were like 
a deep pool in the forest, darkling or shining bright 
with every sad or merry thought.” 4 

“Your wife?” stammered Mrs. Carthew. “I 
never knew — you never spoke of her. Was she 
German ?” 

“ It was twenty-four years ago last September that 
I said good-bye to my wife in Magdeburg, and went 
northward to join the army of the King of Sweden. 
Pool that I was ever to leave her ! But I thought 
that she and our little one would be in safety in 
Magdeburg, and I could not be easy or stay idle 
when there was fighting to be done. Eight months 
after Magdeburg was besieged and fell. You know 
all that ; and such horrors as followed sicken even 
a man to think of, and are not fit for women’s 
ears.” 


20 


230 


OLD BRISTOL. 


He shuddered as he spoke, and paused, but Mrs. 
Carthew through pity and weeping could not trust 
her voice, and he soon went on again in a tone of 
stern repression : 

“ A man who escaped told me afterward that he 
had seen my wife struck down by a bullet as she was 
running toward him with our child in her arms. The 
fire the next day swept that part of the city, and left 
it a heap of ashes and ruins. Is it any wonder I 
could never speak of all this? I was wild for a 
time, and nothing but fighting and danger could 
cool the fire that burned in my heart and head. ’Tis 
not a thing one can talk of, and no one here knew 
my Greta. But can you tell me aught of this 
maiden ?” 

Mrs. Carthew controlled herself, and in answer 
to his eager request she told him all she knew of 
Elsa’s story. As she finished he seized her hand in 
his iron grasp. 

“She is mine! my own! my Greta’s daughter! 
Can you deny it, Mrs. Carthew ?” he cried passion- 
ately. 

“ In truth I believe it,” she replied earnestly. 

“Thank God!” he said solemnly, and releasing her 
hand he clasped both his own before his face for a 
few minutes. 

“Shall I send her to you?” asked Mrs. Carthew as 


OLD BRISTOL. 


231 


he looked up again ; and she rose from her chair to 
leave the room, but he detained her. 

“No, no; wait,” he said hastily; then he added 
earnestly, “ I am about to make a strange request. 
Please do not tell her anything yet. Let her learn 
to know me. I have lived a rough life, and that 
dainty child has no remembrance of me. I should 
frighten her now. I saw the terror in her eyes as 
she stood in the door of the hostelry.” His voice 
faltered, and he brushed his hand hastily across his 
eyes. 

Mrs. Carthew tried to persuade him, telling him 
that Elsa was only startled by his sudden exclama- 
tion, but he was firm, saying, 

“’Tis happiness enough for me now. And I 
think in time I can win my daughter’s heart. — Elsa ! 
little Elsa !” he repeated softly to himself. “ Strange 
that the name never recalled her to me ! but Greta 
always had some pet name or other for her, and 
she was the only one, so we seldom called her by 
her real name.” 

“But her family name?” said Mrs. Carthew. 
“ How did she happen to be called Stein ?” 

“ It is the German for my name, and the word 
Stone seemed strange to German tongues, though 
Greta could say it rightly from the time we first 
met,” answered Jack. “Now let me go with you 


232 


OLD BRISTOL. 


to see the child. I promised Grace that I would sup 
with you this evening, but I could not till this mys- 
tery was explained.” 

Mrs. Carthew led the way with an inward trem- 
bling. She had never before seen so plainly the 
tender heart that lay under Master Stone’s cloak 
of reserve, and she feared lest some word or look 
of Elsa’s might wound it. But the evening passed 
quietly. Jack had recovered his composure; he 
played with the children, talked over the news of 
the day with Hugh Middleton, and no one but Mrs. 
Carthew noticed the new light in his eyes as they 
rested on Elsa. 

Just before he left that night he called Mrs. 
Carthew aside, and slipping a purse into her hand 
he whispered, 

“Use it for my daughter, but remember your 
promise.” 

Then before she could answer he had left her. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

ELSA FINDS HER FATHER. 

T here was much for Elsa to see and many 
friends to welcome her back to the little con- 
gregation at the Pithay, hut her first visit was to Mis- 
tress Bardin, who was in a state of great anxiety 
concerning Dick. When she reached the little 
house she stopped and looked about with an ex- 
pression of surprise and dismay. 

The time-worn walls of the old Castle were cov- 
ered with workmen, and clouds of dust filled the 
two spacious courts. But the work was not one of 
repairs. Many of the towers had disappeared, and 
the palace containing the royal hall, one hundred 
and eight feet long and fifty-four feet wide, that had 
been erected by Earl Robert of Gloucester in 1147, 
was gone. The old Dungeon Tower, the finest in 
England, with massive walls six feet thick, still rose 
above the confusion, but the magnificent King’s 
Chapel and the smaller apartments were rapidly 
disappearing under the blows of the busy workmen 
20 * 233 


234 


OLD BKISTOL. 


“ That is some of Mr. Cromwell’s work,” said 
Mistress Bertha, who had come down from her 
room to meet Elsa. “ The old w^alls are to come 
down, and a road is to be made across to the Old 
Market. ’Tis perhaps wise and useful, but it goes 
to my heart to see the stones fall, and none but Mr. 
Cromwell would have dared to decree it. Nothing 
is safe from his sacrilegious hands. But come in ; 
’tis a sorry sight to gaze at.” 

Elsa was shocked to see how much Mistress 
Bardin had changed. The last few months of 
anxiety had done it all, Annette said; her hair 
had whitened and she began to stoop like an old 
woman. 

“I had thought it would be Dick who would 
bring thee to see me again, sweetheart,” she said, 
stroking Elsa’s cheek with her trembling hand; 
“but the Lord’s will be done!” And she wiped 
away a tear as she carefully laid a mark in her 
Bible before closing it. 

Elsa had scarcely dared to ask about Dick before, 
but these words fell like a leaden weight on her 
heart, and she was thankful that Mistress Bertha, 
who took upon herself the duty of keeping up 
Mistress Bardin’s spirits, answered a little sharply, 

“I hope the Lord’s will may be to bring him 
back soon. Mr. Ewins promised to inquire about 


OLD BRISTOL. 


235 


the ship while he is in London, and there is no 
need to take trouble before it comes.’’ 

But, for all Mistress Bertha’s hopeful words, 
Elsa carried a heavy heart, though she hid it 
bravely from her loving friends. She sometimes 
wondered whether Master Stone guessed that she 
had any trouble, for he was so gentle and kindly 
toward her, trying to devise means for her amuse- 
ment and appearing to take so much interest in all 
she said and did. 

Mr. Ewins had gone up to London in the early 
summer to be baptized by Mr. Henry Jessey, and 
Elsa was watching with keen anxiety for the news 
that he would bring, when one morning Master 
Stone came to the house earlier than usual. He 
entered, as he was wont, without ceremony the 
room where Mrs. Carthew and Mrs. Middleton were 
sewing, while Elsa was playing with little Hugh 
Middleton, and cried, 

“Here is good news for Mistress Bardin. Her 
son is back safe and sound; I met him entering 
the city only a quarter of an hour since.” 

The two ladies gave a simultaneous cry of joy, but 
Elsa said nothing. The heavy oaken furniture seem- 
ed suddenly to begin to swim in a most unaccountable 
manner before her, and she clutched the babe on 
her lap to save him from floating away too. But 


236 


OLD BRISTOL. 


little Hugh set up a cry and slapped her hand 
with infantine petulance, for she hurt him. That 
seemed to steady things. The mist that was coming 
before her eyes cleared away, and she saw again the 
sunlit room and Mistress Carthew and Mistress 
Middleton looking eagerly at Master Stone for 
more news ; but his eyes were fixed on her with 
a longing and almost reproachful look. When he 
saw that she noticed him he came toward her, and 
taking the child from her arms he said quietly, 

“ You are wearying yourself with this heavy 
boy. Let me hold him a while.” 

Elsa’s heart throbbed at the gentle tone and the 
thoughtful manner in which he shielded from obser- 
vation her pale face as he stooped to take his little 
nephew, and she had much trouble to keep back her 
tears while she gave him a grateful look. He laid 
his hand a moment on her head, and then turned 
away with the boy in his arms, crowing and pulling 
at his gray moustache, so that he had much difficulty 
in answering the many questions for which the two 
ladies had now found words. 

Dick had returned safely, but he had been through 
many perils. The vessel had been wrecked in a 
fearful storm, and for days the crew had floated, 
they knew not whither, on the wide ocean, without 
compass and with no land in sight. They were in 


OLD BKISTOL. 


237 


a little boat with scanty provisions ; their small 
supply of water failed, and some, grown mad with 
thirst, flung themselves into the sea. At length 
they had been seen and taken on board by a Dutch 
vessel. Dick had been very ill for days, but he 
gradually recovered, and before the vessel came in 
sight of land he was able to make himself useful 
about the ship, which was short of hands. His one 
thought was to return to England. He had lost 
everything on the wreck, and was glad to engage 
with the Dutch captain for the return voyage to 
Antwerp. Thence he at once took passage for 
London, and came direct down to Bristol. 

This much Master Stone had learned, and for the 
rest, he said, they must ask Dick himself. 

Two days passed, and Elsa watched eagerly every 
time the door opened, but Dick did not appear. 
Mrs. Carthew had gone with Annette the next day 
to congratulate Mistress Bardin, and they had seen 
Dick, and said he was very thin and pale and had 
lost his old merry look. Nothing was said of Elsa, 
and she did not dare to ask if he knew that she were 
in Bristol. Master Stone, however, seemed to have 
taken a great liking to the young man,' and on the 
third morning Mistress Grace said to her uncle as he 
was leaving the house, 

“ I wish, uncle, that you would bring the young 


238 


OLD BEISTOL. 


Bardin to sup with us. I have heard so much of 
him I would gladly meet him; and my husband 
desires to see him,” 

Master Stone promised, and as he was then on his 
way to Lawford’s Gate, he stopped at Mistress Bar- 
din’s in passing to deliver his message. Mistress 
Bardin herself came to the door, and insisted that 
he should come in and see Dick. 

“He seems so restless and troubled,” she said, 
with an anxious look on her kindly face ; and open- 
ing the door of the little parlor, where Dick sat, she 
ushered in Master Stone and slipped quietly away. 

Dick did not look restless or troubled as he came 
forward to meet Master Stone, but he certainly 
looked as though he had suffered much. As soon as 
he heard the invitation a flush rose to his cheek, but 
he answered quietly, 

“ It is very kind of Mrs. Middleton, but I doubt 
if I can come, for I have about decided to return 
at once to London to look for employment. I lost 
everything on that ship, for I owned part of the car- 
go, and there is nothing left of all that I have gained 
but a small sum that is my mother’s. Fortunately, 
she has enough to keep her in comfort, but I must 
set to work without delay.” 

“ It was indeed an unlucky venture for you,” said 
Jack, knitting his brows. 


OLD BRISTOL. 


239 


“ Nay, I can hardly call it that,” replied Dick, 
gravely, “ for it has taught me lessons that I shall 
never forget. When a man has been for days on 
the brink of the grave, or with the more terrible 
fear of madness hanging over him, he can see things 
that he never saw before. I can truly say that till 
then I never saw my own worthlessness and the 
mercy of God toward me. One cannot go through 
such days and come out of them as light and reck- 
less as before.” 

“I can well believe it,” replied Jack earnestly. 
“ My words were thoughtless ones, for it is God who 
rules all our ways. But why need you go away at 
once? You ought to have a little rest, and you 
should think of your mother.” 

Dick again flushed deeply. 

“ I do think of her,” he replied, ‘‘ and on her ac- 
count I will try to get employment in London, in- 
stead of going to sea again.” 

“ Then why not try here in Bristol, instead of go- 
ing to London ?” urged Jack. 

Dick got up and paced the room restlessly for a 
few moments, then he stopped in front of Jack and 
said hastily, 

“ I had thought to do so, but I cannot. I did not 
know till yesterday that Mistress Elsa was here, and 
I cannot stay and not see her.” 


240 


OLD BRISTOL. 


Jack did not answer, but he felt a keen pang of 
disappointment shoot through him. His daughter, 
whom he had so lately found, arid whose love he had 
been trying eagerly and, as he thought, not vainly to 
win, — was she to be taken from him at once by this 
young man ? Had he not better urge Bardin to go 
while Elsa was still untroubled? She had turned 
pale, it is true, at the news of Dick’s return, but that 
might be a mere fancy, or perhaps sympathy with his 
mother; at all events, she would forget, and who 
could love her better than her old father, who had 
no one else in the world ? All these thoughts 
jostled each other hurriedly through Jack’s mind 
in the short time that Dick stood before him. Then 
he said quietly, 

“ Is that the reason you would not come to the 
house ?” 

Dick nodded and turned away. 

‘‘But what has Mistress Elsa herself to say?” 
asked Jack, resolutely choking down all the selfish 
thoughts that were clamoring in his brain. 

‘- 1 cannot tell, and I have no right to ask,” an- 
swered poor Dick. “ I did go to her at Thurlton 
Hall, when she was away from her friends and I 
had made a little money and could ofier her a home, 
but she would not listen to me.” 

“You proposed to her?” cried Jack almost angri- 


OLD BRISTOL. 


241 


ly; then suddenly recollecting himself, he added 
more quietly, “Did she refuse you then?’^ 

“Well, I was a reckless fellow then,” answered 
Dick, rather confused, “ and she would not listen to 
me ; and quite right she was, though it vexed me 
sorely at the time. It set me thinking, and I had 
an idea that perhaps if I was a better man and grew 
more religious she might give me a different answer. 
I was trying to walk as straight as a line all that 
voyage, but just as I thought I was doing pretty 
well — for I had not said any evil words, and had read 
my Bible pretty regularly — there came the storm. 
All my hopes of Elsa went then, and all my conceit 
too. I think I must have been like some of the fine 
ladies that, they tell me, paint their cheeks to hide 
their age and ugliness till they look like fresh young 
maidens ; so I was painting myself, but all the little 
wrinkles and Ugly marks showed out plainly enough 
when we were in that little boat, not knowing who 
would be alive the next hour.” 

Jack sat pondering deeply while Dick talked. 
When he found that Dick had already spoken to 
Elsa he was thankful that he had not let his first 
thought get the upper hand, for his child’s happiness 
might be more deeply involved than he at first sup- 
posed. 

“ Well, Dick,” he said at last, “ wait a while, and 
21 Q 


242 


OLD BRISTOL. 


don’t do anything hastily. Come to see my niece 
and her husband to-morrow, and perhaps we can find 
something for you to do in Bristol.” 

“ But she is happy now, and it is no use to trouble 
her,” said Dick gloomily. “ I asked Mrs. Carthew 
if she was going back to Thurlton next winter, and 
she smiled and said, ‘ Oh no — that Elsa must never 
go away again ; there was no need.’ ” 

“ Of course not,” said Jack. 

“Well,” continued Dick, “she is comfortable now, 
and I am poor, without a penny to offer her, and I 
must not let my mother want ; so I had better go 
off*.” 

“ Do as I tell you,” cried Jack, rather irate at be- 
ing contradicted. “ One would think you were wiser 
than your elders, young man;” and then, fearing 
lest he should betray himself, he got up hastily, 
wrung Dick’s hand, and saying, “We shall look for 
you to-morrow,” strode out of the room. 

Jack was now too much excited to care about his 
errand to Lawford’s Gate, and he hurried back to 
the house in the High Street with no definite plan in 
his mind, only feeling that he must be near Elsa. 
But he was disappointed, for when he entered the 
wainscoted parlor he found only Mrs. Carthew, who 
told him that Elsa had gone out with Annette to 
visit Mistress Hazzard, who had been ailing for a 


OLD BRISTOL. 


243 


few days. He sat down rather wearily and asked 
when Elsa would return. 

^ “ She may be gone until the dinner-hour,” answered 
Mrs. Carthew ; and, touched by his look of disap- 
pointment, she ventured to add, “ Oh, Master Stone, 
why do you keep up this painful concealment ? It 
is not fair to Elsa, and I know that it weighs heavily 
on you.” 

He did not reply, but drawing out a worn pocket- 
book he took from it a folded paper. Carefully 
opening it, he laid it on the table beside Mrs. Car- 
thew. It contained a lock of light-brown hair, and 
upon this lay a tiny yellow curl. 

“ That is my wife’s, and the little curl is Elsa’s,” 
he said, lifting them reverently and tenderly in his 
strong hands. “ Greta cut them off for me the day 
the child was a year old. See !” and he turned the 
paper to show her the names written in a delicate 
German hand, and underneath the date, “Britten 
Juni ” — Third of June. 

“ This is the second,” exclaimed Mrs. Carthew ; 
“ then to-morrow is Elsa’s birthday. Oh, let me tell 
her then.” 

“ A birthday gift,” said Jack, smiling sadly. 

He had scarcely said the words when the door 
opened, and Elsa herself entered, looking so bright 
and rosy from her walk that it was no wonder 


244 


OLD BRISTOL. 


that her father’s eyes rested on her with love and 
pride. 

“ Mistress Hazzard was better and had gone oiit,’\ 
she said. — “ I did not know you were here, Master 
Stone. I am glad that I came back, instead of going 
to walk with the children.” 

Then, seeing the open paper on the table, and fear- 
ing lest she had intruded on conversation not meant 
for her, she stopped embarrassed and looked from 
one to the other. 

Mrs. Carthew glanced pleadingly at Master Stone, . 
and was going to speak when he said quietly. 

Come here, my child ; you did not interrupt us. 
We were speaking of you. Elsa, would you like to 
see your mother’s hair?” 

The hands that he held out to her trembled, and 
his eyes had the same longing look that Elsa had 
seen at times before. Mrs. Carthew inw^ardly dreaded 
the effect of this suddenness. Would Elsa, through 
shyness or through not comprehending it all, pain 
him again, as she had done so unconsciously at the 
hostelry ? But she need not have feared. In a mo- 
ment, though none of them could exactly tell how 
she got there, Elsa was in her father’s arms, crying 
for joy and sadness with her face hidden on his 
shoulder, while all the fond words that had lain 
unused for twenty-five years came trooping to his 


OLD BRISTOL. 


245 


lips, as though he had showered them but yesterday- 
on his baby daughter. So, seeing that she was no 
longer needed, Mrs. Carthew went quietly out and 
shut the door. 

21 * 


CHAPTER XX. 


A SAILORS S COURTSHIP. 

D ick BARDIN was in a very disturbed state 
of mind after Master Stone left him. In 
thinking over the conversation there was much in 
Master Stone’s manner that perplexed him. He 
was not at all sure that it would be right to follow 
his advice, and in truth he began to be uncertain if 
he had done right to confide in Master Stone at all. 
But there could be no doubt that the old soldier 
felt kindly toward him, and Dick soon persuaded 
himself that it would be ill bred to vex him and 
kind Mistress Middleton by refusing this invitation. 
It was the easier to come to this conclusion since all 
Dick’s inclinations turned that way. 

Accordingly, he presented himself at Master 
Middleton’s on the following afternoon, and then 
learned the strange discovery over which the whole 
household was still in a tumult of wonderment and 

joy. 

There was, however, one in the household who 
246 


OLD BRISTOL. 


247 


did not enter into the general rejoicing very heartily. 
Master Hugh Middleton had settled in his own mind 
that nothing could be more proper and natural than 
that Grace’s uncle, w'ho had no one dependent on 
him, should make little Hugh his heir. It is true 
that the child’s father and grandfather had plenty 
and to spare, but Hugh’s capacity for absorbing 
money was unlimited, and he felt injured when 
Elsa stepped in between his boy and this additional 
prosperity. He even went so far as to hint at his 
grievance to his wife, but she laid both her little 
hands over his mouth, and, looking at him with 
merry reproach in her bright eyes, cried, 

“ Oh, Hugh, you know you are as glad as any- 
body. You want to make me believe you are 
mercenary, do you ? I know you better than 
that.” 

Little Mistress Grace was so happily blind to 
her husband’s faults that for very shame he had 
to hide them, and if his congratulations were not 
VTy hearty, no one expected more of Hugh, who 
was always grave and preoccupied with business. 

The discovery that he had been confiding his 
love for Elsa to no less a person than Elsa’s father 
put Dick in such a state of bewilderment that he 
began heartily to wish himself at home again. 
When, however, Elsa entered the room and received 


248 


OLD BKISTOL. 


him with her usual gentleness, while a little smile of 
pleasure shone in her blue eyes, all his doubts and 
embarrassments were quickly forgotten. 

Elsa was too much occupied with her father to 
have much to say to Dick. Once, indeed, he 
succeeded in getting a few moments’ speech with 
her, but she noticed her father’s eyes following her 
with a slight look of sadness, and she soon made 
an excuse to return to his side. 

Dick, however, was too honest and good-hearted 
to be made jealous by this. He heartily rejoiced 
in Elsa’s happiness, and he had too much good 
sense to wish to disturb her new-found joy by any- 
thing that might recall their last meeting. But he 
had, in entire unconsciousness, stumbled into an 
avowal of his wishes to Elsa’s father, and he deter- 
mined manfully to put his fortune to the test. 

The next day he sought an interview with Master 
Stone, and with some degree of embarrassment and 
difficulty of speech, but on the whole in manly 
fashion, asked permission to woo Mistress Elsa. 

Jack Stone was not the man to do anything by 
halves, and he heartily liked the frank, handsome 
young sailor. 

“ The decision rests with Elsa,” he said, “but when 
you have found employment I will not hinder you 
from asking her consent if you will promise me two 


OLD BRISTOL. 


249 


things : first, that you will not go to sea again, for 
that would break her heart ; and, second, that you 
will not take my daughter away from me, for that 
would go nigh to break mine ” 

Dick readily gave these promises, but it was not 
easy to think of employment that would suit him 
on land. 

He had that morning received a letter from Lon- 
don from the owners of the lost vessel, whom he had 
already informed of his return : this letter contained 
a request that he would present himself in London 
with all the information that he could give concern- 
ing the wreck. Dick well knew that he was respon- 
sible for the lost ship, and any delay in answering 
this summons might be a disadvantage to him. Mas- 
ter Stone also urged him to go to London at once, 
and while there to make inquiries about employ- 
ment. 

“ If I learn of aught here that will suit you, I will 
send you word,” he said ; “ and you must write to 
me of your welfare. I wish you well out of this 
business of the wreck : I am sure that you did all 
all in your power to save the ship.” 

“ I will set out this afternoon,” said Dick with 
sailor-like promptness. “I may say good-bye to 
Mistress Elsa?” he added hesitatingly as he rose 
from his chair. 


250 


OLD BRISTOL. 


“ Oh, ay — I suppose so,” answered Jack, with a sigh 
that found itself resolutely strangled before it could 
reach the ears of his companion. 

Dick went at once to the wainscoted parlor, where 
he found Elsa talking to Mrs. Carthew and Annette. 
His good-byes were quickly spoken, and Annette no- 
ticed nothing unusual in his words, but probably his 
face said more than his words to Elsa. At least, when 
Mistress Middleton entered the room just after Dick’s 
departure, she cried merrily, 

“ I trow thou hast found some of the new-fangled 
pink paint that the fine ladies use now, Elsa. Thy 
cheeks are like peonies, child.” 

Dick was detained a fortnight in London, and he 
availed himself of Master Stone’s permission to write 
him a long letter by the weekly post, which since the 
beginning of the Commonwealth carried letters reg- 
ularly to all parts of the country. Master Stone did 
not make public the contents of this packet, and it 
was through Mistress Bardin that Elsa learned that 
Dick had united with Master Kifiin’s church in 
Fisher’s Folly. 

Elsa came home with a bright look of thankful- 
ness in her eyes the day that she learned this piece 
of news, but she was always bright and happy now, 
and Annette said that she had grown five years 
younger since she came home from Thurlton. 


OLD BRISTOL 


251 


Dick, too, seemed to have grown younger when he 
returned from London. After what he had seen and 
suffered his light, boyish gayety could never come 
back, but he had lost the weary, careworn look that 
made his mother’s heart ache. The matter of the 
wreck had been explained in a manner so creditable 
to Dick that the owners had offered him the com- 
mand of another vessel. He of course declined this, 
and when they learned that he wished to find employ- 
ment on shore they offered to obtain for him a posi- 
tion in the shipyards where they were constructing 
new vessels to supply the demand of England’s rap- 
idly-increasing commerce. Dick thankfully accept- 
ed this offer, and immediately set out on his return- 
journey to Bristol, as he wished to be ready to enter 
on his new duties as soon as he should be called 
upon. 

Annette had been much relieved to find that Mas- 
ter Stone said nothing about taking Elsa away. 
Sometimes he spoke about a little home for him- 
self and his daughter, but at present he seemed 
content to spend the greater part of his time at the 
old house in the High Street. 

One morning, soon after Dick’s return from Lon- 
don, as Annette was going to the nursery to set Av- 
ice her little morning task, she met Elsa coming up 
the stairs in such a confusion of tears, smiles, and 


252 


OLD BRISTOL. 


blushes that Annette stood still before her in a state 
of wondering bewilderment. Elsa gave her a kiss, 
but would not stop to answer any questions, and 
Annette had to go on with her curiosity unsatisfied. 

Soon after Mistress Middleton entered the nursery 
in a little flutter of excitement, and then the wonder- 
ful news came out. Dick Bardin had asked Elsa to 
marry him. 

“ But Dick is going to live in London ! Elsa 
mustn’t go away there,” cried little Avice; while 
Annette could only give a little gasp, for her 
breath went as though some one had thrown a 
dash of cold water in her face. 

She slipped away from Mistress Middleton and the 
children to find her mother and ask if it was true. 
But as she was hurrying along the corridor, too dis- 
turbed to look where she was going, she nearly 
knocked against Master Stone. He saw her dis- 
tressed face, and perhaps understood the reason of 
it. He made her take his arm in place of one of 
her crutches, and led her into the parlor. Then, 
when she was comfortably seated, he began to tell 
her so kindly and gently about Elsa and Dick and 
his plans for them that Annette felt cheered and 
comforted. 

It was, however, a great shock to her when she 
found a few days after this that Dick was urging a 


OLD BRISTOL. 


253 


speedy marriage. Elsa herself told him that it was 
a very short courtship, but Dick said that it ought 
to be counted from the first day that he saw her, five 
years ago, and he called it a very long one. He had 
received word from London that he would be needed 
very soon, and her cousin Grace, assuming a pretty 
matronly superiority over Elsa, promised that she 
would attend to all the necessary preparations. So 
it was settled that the marriage should take place in 
the last week in August. 

In accordance with Elsa’s wish, the marriage was 
a very quiet one, and when the reapers were sharpen- 
ing their sickles for the harvest and the cornfields 
were rippling in yellow waves under the September 
sun she set out with her husband and father for Lon- 
don. 

3? 


CHAPTER XXI. 

ANNETTE^ S JOURNEY TO LONDON. 

T he year 1655 was a proud and a glorious one 
for England. Under the rule of Oliver Crom- 
well and the brave and sturdy men who surrounded 
him she had risen from her pitiable condition of 
despised subjection, and she now stood free and 
prosperous, challenging and receiving the respect 
of all Europe. 

General Lockhart, with the English army in the 
Netherlands, and Admiral Blake, with the English 
navy on the seas, had caused the name of England 
to be feared and honored; and it was for no vain 
show that they fought. It was not Cromwell’s wish 
to spend his country’s blood and treasure for the 
tear-dimmed glories of war. His generals fought 
not for war, but for peace. 

When Turenne, the French commander, sent to 
General Lockhart an explanation of the battle that 
the allied forces of France and England were to 
fight against the Dutch in the Netherlands, Lock- 
254 


OLD BRISTOL. 


255 


hart, without a shade of that vanity which often 
mars a great commander, answered, 

“Very good; I shall obey Monsieur de Turenne’s 
orders, and he may explain his reasons after the 
battle if he chooses.” 

But England proved that she could also command 
with no uncertain voice. The young Duke of Savoy, 
irritated by some tumults between the Protestant 
Vaudois and a convent of Capuchins, ordered that 
all the Protestants in the lower part of the valley 
of the Pelice should within twenty days leave their 
homes or become Roman Catholics. He followed the 
order with such fearful cruelties that a French cap- 
tain, Monsieur du Petit Bourg, who was commanding 
a French regiment stationed in Piedmont, threw up 
his commission, “in order,” as he said, “that he 
might not assist in such wicked actions.” On hear- 
ing of this, Cromwell sent letters of remonstrance to 
Louis XIV. and the Duke of Savoy in terms that 
could not be mistaken. France was eager for a 
treaty of peace and commerce with England, but 
Cromwell refused to sign it till the French govern- 
ment had procured from the Piedmontese redress 
for the wrongs done to the Protestant Vaudois. 
Collections were taken up in England to help the 
sufferers, and Cromwell himself gave two thousand 
pounds, while a letter written in the eloquent Latin 


256 


OLD BEISTOL. 


of his secretary, Milton, went to all the Protestant 
princes of Europe, calling on them to help to obtain 
justice for these poor hunted peasants trembling in 
the rocky fastnesses of the Alps. 

On the northern coast of Africa, Blake, with his 
fleet, was demanding the release of the Christian 
captives taken by the Barbary pirates ; and when 
the Dey of Tunis, trusting to his fortresses, refused 
to comply, the fortresses were battered down and his 
ships burned. The brave admiral knew well how to 
protect English rights. When he was waiting ofi* 
Malaga after settling the African pirates, some 
sailors from his ships who had gone on shore 
showed disrespect to a procession of the Host. 
Stirred up by a priest, the Spainards beat the sail- 
ors and drove them back to their ships. The admi- 
ral demanded that the priest should be brought to 
justice, but the Spanish authorities replied that 
the civil government had no power over an eccle- 
siastic. 

“ Send him on board the St. George within three 
hours or I will burn your city,” replied the admiral ; 
and the priest was sent. The case was judged on the 
quarter-deck of the ship, the sailors were found to 
be in the wrong, and the priest was escorted back to 
the city with all civility. 

would have punished the men had I been 


OLD BRISTOL. 


257 


appealed to,” said the admiral, “ but I would have 
you and all the world know that an Englishman is 
not to be judged and punished except by English- 
men.” 

“ Is not that grand. Aunt Bertha ?” cried Francis, 
who was beginning to listen with boyish enthusiasm 
and patriotism to all his country’s deeds. 

“ I am sorry the priest got off,” replied Mistress 
Bertha. “No doubt he had done worse things in 
his life than ever the sailors did.” 

“ Oh, that would have spoiled the justice of it. 
Aunt Bertha,” cried Annette. 

But Mistress Bertha’s ideas of justice required as 
much polishing as the pewter plates to keep them 
bright. All that Mr. Cromwell had gained, in her 
estimation, by his interference in behalf of the 
Protestant Yaudois was irretrievably lost the fol- 
lowing year, when she learned that he had allowed 
the Portuguese Jews to open a synagogue in 
London. 

With all the prosperity at home and honor abroad 
men’s minds were yet in an unsettled state, and 
truth and error seemed strangely mixed. Thus in 
a swollen river that has overflowed its banks a 
tangled mass of wreckage may look like firm and 
solid ground, but the winds and waves will gradu- 
ally drift it away and break it up, while the sure 
22 * R 


258 


OLD BRISTOL. 


ground that lies hidden by the tossing waves will 
emerge green and fruitful after the waters subside. 

There were many wild and strange ideas now 
tossed up by these chafing waves in the swollen 
stream of long-pent-up freedom. The Fifth-Mon- 
archy men were looking for the millennium and 
the personal reign of Christ on earth ; others, again, 
were prophesying that the end of the world was at 
hand ; while some, who called themselves the Seek- 
ers, denied that any pure and true church existed 
yet, and were waiting and watching for its establish- 
ment in the future. 

One of the saddest and most shocking spectacles 
of wild fanaticism occurred in Bristol in the year 
1656. James Naylor, who belonged to the Society 
of Friends — as they called themselves, or the 
Quakers, as they were called by those who would 
deride them — made a public entry into the city by 
way of Bedminster, calling himself the Christ, and 
surrounded by wild followers who called themselves 
his disciples and ran before him crying “ Hosanna !” 
Mrs. Carthew shut herself up in her chamber, weep- 
ing in pity and horror, and even Mistress Bertha 
Was too much shocked to utter a word of condem- 
nation. 

The unhappy man was taken before the magis- 
trates, and then sent to London. After ten days of 


OLD BRISTOL. 


259 


debate it was decided that be should not be put to 
death. He was sentenced to stand in the pillory, 
to be whipped through the streets both in London 
and Bristol, and to be branded on the forehead with 
the letter B. This sentence was carried out without 
waiting for the opinion of the Protector. On the 
day of its execution in Bristol, Mrs. Carthew re- 
mained long in her chamber reading and praying, 
and the next day, when she went to see Mistress 
Bertha, she was surprised and relieved to hear from 
her no bitter denunciation. 

“It should make us very humble. Sister Mar- 
garet,” she said, “ when we see to what fearful deeds 
our own unbridled thoughts may lead us. I have 
been praying and thinking much of my own sins. 
God grant that we may never be given up to the 
evil imaginings of our own hearts, and may he send 
forgiveness and healing to the body and spirit of the 
poor man !” 

The Society of Friends did not abandon the un- 
happy man wLo had brought such reproach upon their 
name. Its members visited him and exhorted him 
during the imprisonment that followed. He did not 
survive many years, but he repented deeply and truly, 
and before he died he published a confession of his 
fall, “when darkness came upon him and he ran 
against that Rock to be broken which had so long 


260 


OLD BEISTOL. 


borne him, and whereof he had so largely drunk, 
and of which at last he drank in measure again, 
praising God’s mercy in delivering him and greatly 
fearing ever to offend again, whereby the innocent 
truth or the people of God might suffer.” 

Duriug the winter that succeeded this sad event, 
while Charles Stuart was living in dissolute idleness 
at Cologne, and Cromwell was steadily pursuing his 
way in England, undaunted still by the network of 
plots and stratagems against his life which had made 
his poor mother start in her splendid apartments at 
Whitehall whenever she heard the sound of a pistol. 
Mistress Bertha was beginning to arrange a plan 
that had long been in her mind. 

This plan concerned Annette, who was now grow- 
ing to be a comely maiden, though she had not the 
remarkable beauty of delicate skin and lovely fea- 
tures that caused strangers to admire the little Avice. 
The lameness caused by the accident at Lawford’s 
Gate still remained, and Annette could scarcely bear 
any weight on that knee, and much walking, even 
with the help of a crutch, would cause pain and 
swelling. Mrs. Middleton had once suggested that 
a more skilful surgeon than any that could be found 
in Bristol might do some good to Annette. But at 
the time she suggested it the narrowness of their 
means rendered it impossible, and Mrs. Carthew 


OLD BRISTOL. 


261 


dreaded the fatigue which a journey to London 
would cause to Annette. Nothing was done, but the 
thought remained in Mistress Bertha’s mind. She 
dwelt much on it, and laid by constantly what she 
could spare from her income with the vague idea 
that at some future time she would take Annette 
to London. 

Soon after she was settled in London, Elsa wrote, 
entreating that Annette might come to visit her, and 
mentioning the name of Dr. George Bate, whom 
Lady Cortland wished Annette to consult. He had 
been consulted by Charles I. while living at Oxford, 
and now stood high in the esteem of Cromwell be- 
cause of his learning and skill. But Mrs. Carthew 
was of opinion that Elsa, with her husband and 
father, had no need of visitors just then, and, as the 
winter weather was coming on, the journey was post- 
poned till the next summer. With the summer came 
a different visitor — a bright, helpless little fellow 
who bade fair to monopolize Elsa’s time, as well as 
to get his full share of spoiling from his father and 
grandfather. The journey, so often planned and put 
off, had come to be a mere castle in the air to An- 
nette, when one morning in the January of the year 
1657 — or the eleventh month of the year 1656, as it 
was then called, when the year was counted to begin 
in March — a letter came from Elsa Bardin saying 


262 


OLD BRISTOL. 


that her father was coming to Bristol, as soon as the 
fine weather set in, for the sole purpose of fetching 
Annette to London, and that she ruust on no account 
fail to be ready : she also added a pressing invitation 
to Mrs. Carthew and Mistress Bertha to accompany 
her. After much consultation it was finally decided 
that they should both go with Annette, and if she 
were obliged to remain long in London her mother 
would return, leaving her under the care of Mistress 
Bertha. 

As the first primroses began to appear on Bran- 
don Hill, and the woods along the Avon CMfi*s began 
to show swelling buds and the tender green that 
heralds the full spring verdure, Annette and Avice 
were in a constant state of excitement and expec- 
tation, while Francis brought daily reports of the 
state of the roads. 

True to his promise, one sunny May morning 
Master Stone appeared, though the great debate 
which was then going on in London about the 
ofier of the crown to Cromwell made him loath to 
be absent. After various delays and misgivings, 
in the early part of June, with her mother and 
aunt, Annette actually set ofi* by coach on the 
longed-for journey. Poor little Avice tumbled 
April into June with her alternate tears and smiles 
as she said good-bye, but when the travellers were 


OLD BRISTOL. 


263 


really gone and she ran back to Annette’s empty 
room, the showers bade fair to settle into a down- 
right November pour. Mrs. Middleton’s bright 
and kindly ways and Frank’s endearments and 
persuasions at length induced her to dry her tears, 
and when little Hugh ran up to her she was soon 
engaged in a merry romp. But, notwithstanding 
all th%J; was done to amuse her, the days seemed 
very long to the poor child without her mother and 
sister. The weather was fine and bright, and daily 
Mrs. Middleton sent her out, with little Hugh and 
his nurse,, to Brandon Hill to spend the lovely 
summer mornings among the flowers and in the 
fresh, open air. 

One morning, when Avice was chasing a splendid 
butterfly for Hugh, and had strayed a little distance 
from the nurse and child, she was surprised by 
hearing a voice behind her call out, 

“Wait a moment: I will catch it for you.” 

Turning, she saw a boy coming toward her with 
his hat in his hand, which he dexterously threw 
over the butterfly. Avice watched him with shy 
surprise, but his frank, merry face attracted her, 
and she wanted the butterfly; so, conquering her 
first impulse to run away, she stood still and let him 
bring it to her, which he did, carefully holding it 
by the tips of its brilliant wings. Though Avice 


264 


OLD BRISTOL. 


had chased numberless butterflies, she never had 
caught one, and now she looked on with great in- 
terest as the boy spread out the wings and showed 
her the bright spots. The insect struggled to get 
free, and the largest spots began to rub ofi* its 
wings. 

“Stop a moment,” cried the boy; “give me a 
pin and I will fasten it to this piece of wot>d.” 

Avice searched for an extra pin, and at last 
drew one out of the kerchief about her neck, which 
she handed to the boy, 

“ How can you fasten the butterfly without hurt- 
ing it?” she asked as she knotted the ends of her 
kerchief. 

As she spoke, to her horror, the boy ran the pin 
through the body of the luckless butterfly and held 
it up in triumph on the stick. A sudden outcry 
from Avice startled him. 

“ Oh, it is wicked, cruel !” she cried, stamping her 
little foot passionately. “ Take it off! take it oflT!” 

The boy, amazed to see the sudden change in Av- 
ice’s pretty, gentle face, dropped the stick and stared 
at her. But Avice paid no heed to him ; she was 
anxiously and tenderly setting free the wounded but- 
terfly. But the fall had put an end to the poor in- 
sect’s miseries, and, feebly fluttering for a moment, it 
lay dead in her hand. 


OLD BRISTOL. 


265 


“Did you never catch butterflies before?” asked 
the boy a little scornfully. “ All the boys at school 
fasten them like that.” 

“ Francis never does,” answered Avice, without 
looking up. 

“ Who is Francis ?” 

“ My brother,” replied Avice. 

“Do you mean Frank Carthew?” continued the 
questioner. 

“ Yes.” 

“ Then what is your name, and why do you answer 
so shortly ?” asked the boy. 

“ Never mind ; I do not like you,” replied Avice • 
and, laying the butterfly on the grass, she turned to 
go away to hide two bigs tears of pity and anger that 
were filling her eyes. 

“ But I know you must be Avice,” cried her com- 
panion ; “ I have heard Elsa talk of you.” 

“ Elsa ?” cried Avice, stopping in her surprise and 
looking at him. “ Are you Ralph Cortland ? And 
how did you get here?” 

“ I came with my father, but they said Mrs. Car- 
thew was in London ; so I came out to see the old 
fort while father is busy in Bristol,” said Ralph. “ I 
did not mean to vex you,” he added rather awkward- 
ly as he now got a good look at the face and saw the 
tears. 

23 


266 


OLD BRISTOL. 


Avice did not answer, and turned away again. 

‘‘I don’t think you ought to be angry with me 
when I say I’m sorry,” said Kalph in rather an ag- 
grieved tone. 

“You cannot make the butterfly alive again by 
being sorry,” answered Avice. 

Ralph pondered a little, but as Avice was still 
walking away, he ran after her and asked, 

“ Is Frank in London ? I should like to see him.” 

He is at school,” replied Avice. 

“ But this is a holiday,” cried Ralph. “ I go to 
school to Mr. Alleine in Taunton, but he does not 
make us study on the holidays. That is why father 
brought me to Bristol to-day.” 

“Mr. Terrill gives Francis a half holiday,” said 
Avice, “but Aunt Bertha says it shows that people 
are Papists at their hearts if they keep the Popish 
saints’ days and holy days.” 

“Well, Mr. Alleine is not a Papist, and Mr. Ter- 
rill cannot be better than he is,” answered Ralph, 
jealous for the honor of his school. 

“ Aunt Bertha says that there is a great deal of 
grace in Mr. Terrill,” replied Avice. 

“ Then I am sure there is a great deal in Mr. Al- 
leine. He is always trying to do us good, and he 
preaches every Sunday in Taunton, and again on 
Tuesday evenings, and he goes on Sunday after- 


OLD BRISTOL. 


267 


noons to preach wherever there is no clergyman. 
Besides, he has a catechumen class once a week, 
and he visits the people and teaches them at home. 
And then he knows a great deal ; for when he was 
at Lincoln College he used to get up at four in the 
morning to study, and often he did not go to bed till 
one o’clock at night.” 

Avice was overpowered by this torrent of words, 
and before she could think of an answer the nurse, 
who had been alarmed at her absence, came in sight 
with little Hugh. 

“ I shall come to see Frank this afternoon, and I 
will bring you some sweetmeats if you will not be 
angry with me any more,” said Ralph persuasively. 

“ I don’t know,” replied Avice doubtfully. 

“Well, think about it,” laughed Ralph, “and tell 
Frank to look out for me.” 

With a merry wave of his hand he turned away 
by another path, and left Avice to explain his pres- 
ence to the nurse, who administered a sharp reproof 
to her for talking to boys in that way. 

Ralph appeared that afternoon, and, softened by 
his penitence, Avice received him graciously, but she 
would not take the sweetmeats, thinking it beneath 
her dignity to be bought. But when Ralph said he 
would not keep them in his pocket, and laughingly 
popped one into his own mouth, her dignity gave 


268 


OLD BRISTOL. 


way and she consented to join with him and Francis 
in disposing' of them. 

Sir John had only come to Bristol for the day, and 
Kalph was on his way back to Taunton before Avice 
was awake the next morning. But the adventure 
was an event in little Avice’s quiet life, and she sent 
a full account of it to Annette, which Mrs. Middle- 
ton kindly wrote down from her dictation. 

Dr. Bate had made a careful examination, but 
gave no decided opinion about Annette’s lameness. 
The accident had occurred so -long ago that, he said, 
it was difficult to pronounce if a cure was possible, 
but he thought she could certainly be relieved if she 
would remain in London for several months. Annette 
could hardly consent to this, and Mistress Bertha told 
her rather sharply that she made more ado over one 
doctor than Mr. Baxter over thirty-six. 

“But the thirty-six physicians did poor Mr. Bax- 
ter no good,” said Annette, “ for he grew no better.” 

“Well,” replied Mistress Bertha, hastily and not 
very logically, “ he bore with them all patiently, and 
perhaps if it had not been for that he would never 
have written his Saints’ Best, that most consoling and 
strengthening book. But I could not truly recom- 
mend thirty-six physicians ; and if this one can do 
you no good, then it will be time to talk of returning 
home.” 


OLD BEISTOL. 


269 


Elsa, with her bright hopefulness, was more en- 
couraging, and finally Annette consented to re- 
main. 

During this time the question that had been exci- 
ting the public mind for so many weeks was definitely 
settled. The crown was ofiered to Cromwell, and he 
refused it. The existing form of government had 
been found incomplete, and a new Instrument of 
Government had, after much discussion, been drawn 
up. This instrument gave to Cromwell the regal 
honor and powers, but as he definitely refused the 
title of king, the former title of Protector was re- 
tained. On the following 26th of June the inaugu- 
ration under the new instrument took place with great 
pomp in Westminster Hall. The coronation-chair, 
with the famous stone on which the Scottish kings 
had been crowned at Scone, placed under the canopy 
of state, the sceptre, the sword of state, the robe of 
purple, — all these regal appointments caused many 
to say that only the name was lacking to make him 
king. 

“ It was a grand sight,” said Master Stone, ** when 
the Protector stood up under the canopy, with the 
council and foreign ambassadors around him, the 
judges on his right hand, the corporation of London 
on the left, and all the members of Parliament in 
seats arranged like an amphitheatre. The great hall 


270 


OLD BRISTOL. 


was crowded with people, and when the ceremonies 
were over the heralds proclaimed Oliver Cromwell 
Protector of England, Scotland, and Ireland, and 
the people shouted ‘ God save the Lord Protector 
It was a goodly sight, but where will it end?” 

He shook his head doubtfully, and in those days 
many people had begun to doubt the Lord Protec- 
tor. Colonel Hutchinson, though he had been one 
of the judges of Charles, had always watched Crom- 
well with suspicion, and now others began to fear his 
ambition. Among the number were Ludlow, one of 
his major-generals, and even Colonel Harrison, his 
bosom friend. He had refused the crown, it is true, 
but it was rather in deference to the opinion of others. 
Fleetwood, his son-in-law, the lieutenant-general of 
Ireland, and Colonel Desborough had reasoned with 
him to dissuade him from accepting it. 

About this time the daring pamphlet. Killing no 
Murder, came to excite men’s minds ; plots of assas- 
sins were continually being discovered and thwarted. 
But who could tell what the end would be ? 

Yet if there were still plots and discontent at 
home, there was victory abroad. News in May of 
Blake’s glorious victory over the Spanish navy at 
Santa Cruz filled the nation with pride and rejoi- 
cing. A day of public thanksgiving was appointed. 
Cromwell sent Blake a diamond ring worth five 


OlyD BRISTOL. 


271 


hundred pounds in the name of the Parliament and 
Protector, and, as his health was declining, instructed 
him to return home. But the brave admiral was 
never again to set foot on English soil : he died on 
board his ship, just as it was entering Plymouth 
harbor, on the 17th of August. His body was 
brought to London and interred with great fune- 
ral pomp in Westminster Abbey, in Henry VH.’s 
Chapel. 

Master Stone watched all the shifting scenes with 
the keenest interest, and Annette learned much from 
the grave and thoughtful discussions between him 
and Dick when they came home at night to the lit- 
tle house in Thames Street. Mrs. Carthew found 
a great contrast between this earnest talk and the 
few cautious sentences in which Hugh Middleton 
would tell of some public event. Dick said that 
Master Middleton always talked with one hand on 
the ropes and the other at the wheel, ready to veer 
if the wind changed. 

But this pleasant visit was drawing to an end. 
Having seen Annette in good hands, Mrs. Carthew 
began to grow anxious to return to Avice and 
Francis. Soon after the stately funeral pomp in 
honor of the great admiral she set out on her jour- 
ney back to Bristol, cheered with the hope of seeing 
Annette return in the spring strong and well. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

CROMWELL'S FORTUNATE DAY. 

T he following winter passed quietly in Bristol, 
and letters from London told of Annette’s slow 
but steady improvement, but it was no quiet winter 
for the Lord Protector. 

The question of a second House in Parliament 
was under consideration. But when there was no 
king, how could there be a House of Lords ? Crom- 
well’s daughter Mary had been married the preced- 
ing November to Lord Faulconbridge, and another 
daughter, Frances, the beauty of the family, was 
married to Robert Rich, grandson of the Earl of 
Warwick ; but nearly all the old nobility still held 
aloof from Cromwell. In answer to his summons to 
the second House in January only seven of the peers 
obeyed ; the remaining sixty-three had to be replaced 
by civil officers, generals, eminent country gentlemen, 
and citizens. 

The Parliament met on the 20th of January, but 
immediately an angry debate began as to what the 
272 


OLD BRISTOL. 


273 


new House should be called. Sir Arthur Haselrig 
refused to obey the summous to sit in the other 
House, and remained in the House of Commons. 
Amidst rebellion and dissension the new constitution 
seemed to be going to pieces. Cromwell appealed to 
the members, asking, 

“Have you any frame or model of things that 
will satisfy the minds of men, if this be not the 
frame which you are now called together upon and 
engaged in?’’ 

“ Misrule is better than no rule,” he cried, “ a bad 
government better than none and he called upon 
them to help him to fulfil his oath and serve the 
Commonwealth according to the Articles of Govern- 
ment. But it was all to no purpose. Angry voices 
and hot disc^’^afions grew louder, and secret conspira- 
cies for Charles H. were rumored. At last, on the 
morning of the 14th of February, Cromwell brought 
all to an end. He summoned the Commons before 
him ; unwillingly they obeyed, and after a bitter 
rebuke in sterner tones than he had yet used, he 
said, 

“ If this be the end of your sitting, and this be 
your carriage, I think it high time that an end be 
put to your sitting, and I do dissolve this Parlia- 
ment ; and let God be judge between you and me!” 

Plots now thickened on every hand. Colonel 

s 


274 


OLD BEISTOL. 


Hutchinson saved Cromwell’s life by warning him 
of a conspiracy then on foot; certain persons were to 
gain admission to him with a petition ; w'hile he was 
reading it some of the party were to throw him out 
of the window, and Lambert was to be raised to his 
place. Colonel Hutchinson, although he was no 
warm friend of Cromwell, was too wise and too hon- 
orable not to see the wickedness and folly of such 
schemes, and this one was frustrated ; but it was not 
the only one. Charles was getting money from the 
Spaniards, and his friend, the Marquis of Ormond, 
was lurking in disguise in London, stirring up the 
hot spirits to insurrection. In the beginning of 
March the Lord Protector met Lord Broghill, and a 
few significant words put an end to the conspiracies 
of the marquis. 

“ There is an old friend of yours in town,” said 
Cromwell, “ and you can do him a good turn if you 
will. The Marquis of Ormond lodges in Drury 
Lane at the Papist surgeon’s : it would be well for 
him if he were gone.” 

Ormond was not slow to take this hint, and he 
quickly rejoined his master at Bruges ; but the dis- 
contented spirits, although they had lost their leader, 
broke out in an insurrection on the 15th of May, 
which had to be quelled with five pieces of artillery 
from the Tower. After this there were no more in- 


OLD BRISTOL. 


275 


surrections at home, ami one more brilliant victory 
gained by English arms abroad was to cast splendor 
over the close of the stormy life of Cromwell. In 
June all England rang with the tidings of the cap- 
ture of Dunkirk, the first garrison-town held by the 
English in foreign lands since the loss of Calais in 
the reign of the Bloody Queen, 

But*public rejoicings could not avert private sor- 
rows. Cromwell’s son-in-law, Rich, the husband of 
the Lady Frances, died in February, and in April 
came the news of the death of Rich’s grandfather, 
the Earl of Warwick, one of Cromwell’s staunchest 
friends ; but the severest blow fell in July and Au- 
gust, when his dearly-loved daughter, the Lady Eliz- 
abeth Claypole, lay stricken with fever at Hampden 
Court. For two weeks her father watched in bitter- 
est anxiety at her bedside, unable to attend to any 
public business, until on the 6th of August she died. 
Under this overwhelming afliiction there was but 
one support to which he turned. Asking one of his 
attendants to bring him his Bible, he requested to 
have the passage in Philippians read to him : “Not 
that I speak in respect of want, for I have learned 
in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content. 

* I know how to be abased, and I know how to 
abound : everywhere and in all things I am in- 
structed both to be full and to be hungry, both to 


276 


OLD BRISTOL. 


abound and to suffer need. I can do all things 
through Christ which strengtheneth me.” 

“ The Scripture,” he said, “ did once save my life 
when my eldest son died, which went as a dagger 
to my heart.” 

After this he went out to his duties again, and 
London was gay with the ambassadors from France ; 
but the end was near. Before two weeks had passed 
he was himself stricken down; on the 24th of 
August he was removed from Hampton Court to 
Whitehall, as the physicians deemed it necessary 
for him to be in a drier air. Then all England 
watched in deepest anxiety for bulletins from the 
sick bed. On the thirtieth a terrible storm of wind 
swept over the land, and the superstitious shuddered 
as the news came that the Protector was sinking. 
Again, on the night of the 2d of September, a 
mighty storm raged, and on the afternoon of the 
following day — Cromwell’s “Fortunate Hay,” the 
anniversary of his two great victories at Hunbar 
and Worcester — he quietly passed away. 

“ Ay, truly, is not this for him the most fortunate 
day of the three ?” said Jack Stone as he returned 
with the sorrowful tidings from the gate I of the 
palace, where a silent, anxious crowd had gathered 
day after day. “ But for us what is to come ? They 
say the Protector named his son Richard to succeed 


OLD BRISTOL. 


277 


him. As well haug a curtain where a stone wall 
has fallen and he shook his head mournfully. 

Elsa was glad that the necessity of preparing for 
the return of Mistress Bertha and Annette to Bristol 
came to turn his thoughts, for he moped in a gloomy 
abstraction quite unusual to him. 

Annette and her aunt had remained in London 
much longer than Mrs. Carthew expected when she 
said good-bye to them the previous autumn, and she 
began to write most urgently for her daughter to 
return. Annette had gained wonderfully, and she 
was now able to walk without crutches, though Dr. 
Bate said that the injured knee would never be as 
strong as the other, and warned her earnestly against 
the slightest over-exertion. 

In the second week in September the little party 
bade good-bye to Dick and Elsa, and set out on 
their homeward journey. To Annette her new 
strength was like new life, and Mistress Bertha in 
her quiet and reserved way was full of thankfulness. 
She had never ceased to reproach herself as the 
cause of Annette’s lameness, because the accident 
had happened while the child was under her care, 
and the fever that followed had been brought on 
by the removal from Master Listun’s house, which 
she had urged. The first time that Annette walked 
unsupported into her aunt’s room she was deeply 
24 


278 


OLD BRISTOL 


touched to see her clasp her hands and fervently 
exclaim, 

“ The Almighty has been very gracious to hear my 
prayer,” while tears of thankfulness rose to her eyes. 

The year of absence seemed to roll up into very 
small compass as the spires of Bristol rose again be- 
fore Annette’s eyes and she found herself threading 
the well-known streets. The new streets where the 
old Castle had stood seemed very strange to her, but 
the High Street and the dear old house with its 
carved front and overhanging windows were exactly 
the same, and her mother and Avice were standing 
in the doorway to welcome her. 

The excitement over Annette’s return, and the 
pleasure of a short visit from Master Stone, occupied 
ail thoughts during the next few days. They were 
all anxious to hear the fullest tidings concerning the 
sad event that could not fail to alter materially the 
fate of the nation, but there were also many ques- 
tions to be answered about the welfare of Dick and 
Elsa and their boy. On the whole. Master Stone set 
out on his return -journey to London much cheered 
by his visit to Bristol. 

One morning shortly after Master Stone’s depart- 
ure Annette came to her mother’s room to speak of 
a desire that had been in her heart for many months. 
Before Annette went to London, Mr. Hazzard had 


OLD BRISTOL. 


279 


spoken to her and to her mother, urging that she 
should come forward for confirmation. Annette had 
been as a child more thoughtful than other children, 
and her mother had noticed that trust in the Saviour 
and the desire to do his commandments seemed to 
grow with her growth. She was therefore surprised 
to find that she held back. She tried to persuade 
her, inquiring if it did not pain her to be obliged 
to keep away from the Lord’s Supper, that most sa- 
cred remembrance of the crucified Saviour. Annette 
then spoke of her wish to be baptized. Mrs. Car- 
thew, although she had very kindly feelings toward 
the Baptists, was still a member of the Episcopal 
Church, and she could not bear the thought that 
her daughter should be separated from her. She 
was thrown into great perplexity, for she knew well 
what Annette’s father would have wished, and she 
could not endure to say anything that seemed to be 
contrary to what her husband believed to be right. 
She therefore made Annette’s lameness an excuse for 
withholding her consent; and Annette, who w^as very 
sensitive on this point, said no more. She only re- 
quested her mother to tell Mr. Hazzard that she 
would rather wait. Now, however, she came with 
an urgent request that she might be baptized with- 
out further delay. 

“I thought of it so often,” she said, “when I went 


280 


OLD BRISTOL. 


with Dick and Elsa to hear Mr. Kifiin ; and when 
Mr. Kiffin came to the house he talked with me very 
kindly. He did not seem to think that I ought to 
shrink from following Christ’s command even when 
I was lame ; and now, dear mother, as I am able to 
do Avithout a crutch entirely, you will not refuse me 
this. Indeed, I have long wished to belong to the 
church of Christ, but it did not seem to me right to 
strive to enter his church in any way but the one 
way that he himself appointed,” 

Mrs. Carthew could not resist this gentle pleading, 
and these last words struck her in a manner of which 
Annette had never thought. She had not intended 
any criticism on her mother’s conduct, but Mrs. Car- 
thew could not help applying the words to herself. 
She felt that she had not only approached the Lord’s 
Table without being fully impressed with the import- 
ance of this step, but afterward she had refused to 
give her attention to the commands which her hus- 
band had obeyed and which he had urged upon her 
consideration. 

She now consented that Annette should make 
known her wishes to Mr. Ewins ; and the days that 
intervened before Annette was to come before the 
church in their week-day meeting were spent by Mrs. 
Carthew in earnest thought and prayer. When the 
day arrived Annette found, to her great joy, that 


OLD BRISTOL. 


281 


her mother had decided to come with her to ask to 
be baptized and to unite with Mr. Ewins’ church. 
Master Edward Terrill, Francis’ teacher, was also 
among the number. He had been led to earnest 
thought by a sermon preached by Mr. Ewins, and 
after this the sudden death of a neighbor caused 
him to seek more anxiously for an assurance of for- 
giveness of sin, that he himself might be prepared at 
any moment. Divers books that he read and ser- 
mons that he heard in favor of infant baptism only 
had the effect of convincing him more fully that it 
had no scriptural authority, and he decided, there- 
fore, to unite with the Baptist Church. 

Hugh Middleton vehemently opposed the deter- 
mination of his cousins. It was his policy always to 
approve of the party that was in power, and since 
the liberal mind of Oliver no longer ruled the nation 
he thought that the Baptists stood more chance of 
losing than of gaining influence. Even Mistress 
Grace ventured a gentle protest, but neither Mrs. 
Carthew nor Annette had taken this decision with- 
out earnest prayer and study of the Scriptures, and 
they could not be moved. 

They were baptized by Mr. Ewins the following 
Sunday in the river, and afterward received into 
membership with the church, where a glad welcome 
was extended to them. 

24 * 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


ROYALTY RESTORED. 

T he new Protector, Richard Cromwell, proved 
himself to be indeed, as Jack Stone had fore- 
told, a flimsy curtain hanging where a w’all of stone 
had stood, and the name of Protector when borne 
by him was a pitiful mockery. As Mrs. Lucy 
Hutchinson, Colonel Hutchinson’s intelligent and 
discerning wife, remarked, “He was a peasant by 
nature, gentle and virtuous, but he became not great- 
ness.” Notwithstanding this, a great calm followed 
the death of Oliver Cromwell, and the royalists be- 
gan to feel bitter disappointment. Soon, however, 
little ripples came to disturb the calm : malcontents 
who would have feared the strong hand and clear 
brain of the father sought to undermine the author- 
ity of the son, and Richard timidly shrank from the 
responsibilities of the “ greatness that was a burden 
to him.” 

On the 22d of April a council of army ofiicers 
dissolved the Parliament, and the doors of the 
282 


OLD BRISTOL. 


283 


House of Commons were padlocked. The Cromwell 
family, though one year had not passed since the 
death of its great and powerful head, sank back into 
obscurity, and the army was now master. Some 
form of government had to be established, and a 
few of the old members of the Long Parliament 
were called together ; but the people had no con- 
fidence in them, and thoughts of the restoration of 
Charles began gradually to take possession of the 
minds of many who were not royalists. Charles 
and his brother James met at Calais to concert plans 
for invading England, but they were baffled by Gen- 
eral Lambert, who had himself during Ciom well’s 
lifetime aspired to supreme authority. He was sent 
out by the Parliament to defeat a party of royalists 
at Chester, and, having accomplished this, he re- 
turned slowly to London, meditating how he should 
in turn defeat the Parliament. On the 23d of Oc- 
tober the French ambassador wrote to Mazarin, 
“ There is as yet no government established in Eng- 
land, and the conjuncture seems favorable for all 
sorts of enterprises.” 

But there was one up in Scotland quietly watch- 
ing events in London, though he would give his 
adherence to no party. This was General George 
Monk, at the head of an army that was devoted to 
him. After waiting cautiously to see who would 


284 


OLD BKISTOL. 


have the upper hand, he at length declared his inten- 
tion to support the Parliament. He began his march 
southward from Scotland. Meanwhile, the tumults 
in London and the dissensions between the council 
of officers and the Parliament grew worse and 
worse. 

“ What will be the result ? where will it all end T 
cried Elsa ; and these questions were agitating many 
hearts. The whole city was in an uproar, and for 
two days they had been distracted by the noise and 
tumult. Master Stone had gone out to glean what 
tidings he could, and Hick only waited to reassure 
his wife before he followed. 

Keep up good courage, sweetheart,” he cried ; 
“ we shall w^eather this storm, as we have done others 
before it.” But, though he thus spoke words of 
cheer, his own heart sank, for the best ship cannot 
weather the storm with a tumultuous rabble fighting 
about the helm. 

Bands of apprentices were parading the streets 
shouting for a free Parliament, and the Strand was 
full of soldiers fighting and bawling for a free Par- 
liament and money. But by the next morning all 
this tumult had subsided, and Monk matched 
through the city with his troops on the 3d of Feb- 
ruary, and took up his abode at Whitehall. He was 
a cold, sullen, taciturn man, and while officers and 


OLD BRISTOL. 


285 


Parliament-men squabbled and royalists plotted 
around him he chewed his tobacco in impenetrable 
silence, ready to uphold whichever party offered the 
highest inducement. Unfortunately, he took up his 
quarters close to the house of Mr. Kiffin, who found 
him by no means a pleasant neighbor. 

By the 10th of February, Monk had tried the tem- 
per of the people and had made up his mind to defy 
the Parliament. He sent them a threatening letter, 
telling them that they must comply with the de- 
mands of the people ; but Sir Harry Vane expressed 
his opinion that unless he w^as much mistaken Monk 
had yet several masks to put off. To Ludlow, Monk 
exclaimed, 

“ Yea, we must live and die together for a Com- 
monwealth and on the twenty-first, in the House 
of Parliament, he solemnly avowed his intention to 
oppose to the utmost “ Charles Stuart and the House 
of Peers.” But Master Stone only shook his head 
and growled ominously when Elsa anxiously asked 
him for news: 

“ Breaking down ! breaking down ! All the work 
of these ten years is to go for naught, and we shall 
have the old yoke on our necks again before we 
know.” 

On the evening of the 13th of March, Elsa had 
been out with her husband, and as they were return- 


286 


OLD BRISTOL. 


ing past the Exchange they saw a ladder reaching to 
the niche where formerly the statue of Charles I. 
had stood. The statue had been taken away ten 
years before, and on the empty space an inscription 
in Latin announced the downfall of “ the tyrant and 
the last of English kings.” But this evening, as 
Elsa and Dick drew near, they saw a crowd of peo- 
ple watching a house-painter who was mounted on 
the ladder, and in a few minutes he threw up his cap 
and shouted. Elsa could not understand at first, but 
Dick suddenly cried, “Look at that!” and on the 
empty space she saw that the Latin inscription was 
gone, and they heard the man shout again, 

“ God bless King Charles L!” 

General Monk was playing a double game, and 
while he held out one hand, protesting that his in- 
tention was to uphold the Commonwealth, with the 
other he was quietly offering the crown to Charles. 
The dissolute court at Breda, in its poverty and taw- 
dry finery, was gradually becoming thronged with all 
sorts and conditions of Englishmen hastening to be 
the first to oflfer allegiance. In two months more the 
wheel had completed its revolution, and the man who 
ten years before had begun the descent from the po- 
sition of heir to the throne, and had passed through 
the lowest depths of poverty and contempt, found 
himself now rising rapidly again to the top. 


OLD BRISTOL. 


287 


In May the fleet went over to Charles, and on the 
twenty-fifth of the month he landed at Dover, where 
General Monk was waiting to kiss his hand. 

The triumphal entry into London took place on 
the twenty-ninth. The fountains spouted wine, the 
streets were garlanded and strewn with flowers, and 
the houses were hung with tapestry as the gay pro- 
cession of plumed and jewelled lords and ladies 
moved slowly on toward the palace. 

“ A wearisome procession it must have been, for 
all its gayety,” wrote Elsa in a letter that Master 
Stone brought to Bristol the following week, “for it 
lasted till nine o’clock at night.” 


CHAPTEE XXIV. 


TROUBLES FOR THE BAPTISTS. 

T he news of all the gayety and revelling sounded 
strangely enough to the (juiet little household 
in Bristol. There were fine pageants, with laced 
clothes and street music, in the days of the Pro- 
tector, but nothing like this. The difierence was 
great between the fine and solemn music the Pro- 
tector loved, or the grand volume of sound that 
poured forth from the organ under the fingers of 
blind Mr. Milton, and the light French songs and 
tinkling dances of the court of Charles II., but it 
was not as great as the difference between the men. 
Avice, who was too young to understand this, longed 
to see the show and the brilliant glitter. 

“It is like a fairy-tale,” she said to Francis. 

But Francis shook his head, and answered with 
the wisdom becoming his superior years, 

“ ’Tis very fine, no doubt, Avice, but Master 
Stone says it was a better pageant -when General 
Cromwell landed here, in his plain doublet, on 
288 


OLD BRISTOL. 


289 


that rainy day ten years ago. You were a babe 
then, but I remember it well. Dick Bardin took 
me to see the ship come in from Ireland.” 

“They say the young king makes fair promises,” 
said Mrs. Carthew to Jack Stone, who looked very 
gloomy. 

“So did his father before him,” replied Jack, 
“and we all know how they were kept.” 

A king did not mean only feasting and revelling, 
and through all the merriment the mutterings of 
the coming storm began to be heard. The first 
evidence of it was wheiT Mr. Ewins was warned 
that he must no longer preach in Christ Church on 
Sunday mornings or in any of the public churches. 
The members were therefore notified that they must 
assemble at Mr. Ewins’ house, where the old Castle 
used to stand ; and through the warm summer 
months the church was forced to meet in those 
small and crowded rooms, while they looked for- 
ward with fearful forebodings to the clouded future. 

They were not long left in peace. In December 
orders came from the king that all over sixteen 
years of age must take the oaths of allegiance and 
supremacy. The brethren of Mr. Ewins’ and Mr. 
Hynam’s congregations met together to consult over 
this matter, for there appeared to be words in the 
oath of allegiance that involved more than mere 
25 T 


290 


OLD BEISTOL. 


civil power. To concede the authority in matters 
of religion would be to lose all that had been 
gained through years of warfare, and voluntarily 
to return from light to darkness. After much 
discussion and prayerful searching of the Scriptures 
for all that related to duty and subjection to magis- 
trates, it was agreed by all that the Bible commands 
reverence and obedience to all in authority in civil 
matters, and a paper was drawn up stating how 
far the church-members could bind themselves in 
accordance with the Scriptures. This paper, which 
they judged to be as full as the oath of allegiance, 
was sent by two messengers to Sir Henry Creswick, 
mayor of the city. By him it was sent up to the 
king and council, while he gave orders that none 
should be molested until an answer was returned 
from London. 

Nearly a month passed, and then the order came 
from the king that the oath must be taken in the 
words of the law and in no other words. But on 
the assurance of Sir Henry Creswick that it would 
force them to do nothing contrary to Scripture some 
took the oath, though others would not consent to 
bind themselves to uncertain words ; and among 
the latter were Dick Bardin and Master Stone. 

During these months the meeting in the pastor’s 
house was found to be greatly straitened for room, 


OLD BRISTOL. 


291 


and a larger place had to be sought. Near the 
end of Broadmead there was a large hall called 
The Friars. It had formerly belonged to the Fran- 
ciscan friars, and the remains of an old chapel and 
dining-hall were still standing. This place appeared 
to be suitable, and it was taken by Mr. Ewins’ 
church. The arrangement was not made before 
it was needed, for in the following January a 
sergeant came from Sir Henry Creswick to Mr. 
Ewins bearing the king’s proclamation and forbid- 
ding him to preach any longer in his own house. 

In obedience to this order Mr. Ewins gave up the 
meeting in his own house and preached regularly at 
The Friars, where great numbers of people came 
every Sunday to hear him. But this liberty was 
not long allowed them, for six months afterward 
Mr. Ewins was called before the mayor and charged 
not to preach. This summons came on the last 
Wednesday in June, but Mr. Ewins preached as 
usual on the following Sunday, and for two Sun- 
days after that. On the last Sunday in July the 
congregation had assembled as usual at The Friars, 
when a Sergeant Adams of the train-band came into 
the chapel with a guard of musketeers, and, arrest- 
ing Mr. Ewins, led him away to the marshal’s in 
Christmas Street, where he remained in confinement 
sixteen days. On the 12th of August he was taken 


292 


OLD BRISTOL. 


to his own house, but it was as a prisoner, and it was 
not until the 25th of September that he was set at 
liberty again. During this time the church con- 
tinued meeting together, and among those who took 
part in teaching was Mr. Edward Terrill. 

Master Stone, who seemed since the fall of the 
Commonwealth to be in a constant state of restless- 
ness and discontent, came down from London several 
times during the year following the Restoration. 

“ ’Tis all frivolity and profligacy. I could not 
breathe in such an atmosphere,” he said in reply to 
a question of Mrs. Carthew’s concerning the court. 

The trial of the regicides, as it was called, took 
place in October, and ten of those who had decreed 
and aided in the execution of Charles I., the Baptist 
Harrison among the number, were executed at Cha- 
ring Cross, and on the 30th of January, the anniver- 
sary of the death of King Charles, the bodies of 
Cromwell, Bradshaw, and Ireton were dragged 
from their splendid tombs in Westminster Abbey 
and hanged on the gallows at Tyburn from nine 
o’clock in the morning until six in the evening, 
after which they were buried in a hole beneath 
the gallows. This pitiful revenge on the bodies of 
men who were beyond the reach of human hatred 
and malice filled Jack Stone with bitter indignation. 
He came home, and, throwing himself into a chair. 


OLD BRISTOL. 


293 


sat in moody silence, refusing the food that Elsa 
pressed upon him, and even paying no attention 
to the winning ways of his little grandchild, who 
came to him prattling of a pretty lady and a little 
boy who had come to see them that day. 

“ Father,” said Elsa, hoping to turn his mind from 
painful thoughts, “ the young Lady Cortland came 
here to-day to thank you for saving her husband’s 
life, she said.” 

“ What ! whom do you mean, child ?” cried Jack, 
rousing himself. “The Lady Cortland can hardly 
be young. I trow you are deceived with paint and 
false tresses.” 

“ Nay, father,” replied Elsa, “ ’tis the young Lady 
Louise, the wife of Walter Cortland. She tells me 
that Sir John died suddenly a few weeks ago, and 
Sir Walter has gone to Thurlton Hall; but he 
deemed it not prudent for his wife to make the 
journey with her little boy in this wintry season. 
She was sore disappointed not to see you, father, 
and she asked if you would come to her house.” 

“ Nay, nay ; none of your royalists for me !” cried 
Jack. “ The only head that was fit to wear the crown 
lies to-night beneath the gallows. He was right ! he 
was right ! though I did not see it at the time. It 
was, as he said, only a bauble or a feather in the cap, 
but the gaudy bauble should have been worn on the 


294 


OLD BEISTOL. 


wise head, and the feather should have been placed 
in the cap of the man who had won it, instead of be- 
ing left to grace this man of vice and folly.’’ 

“ But, father,” said Elsa, “ the Lady Louise is 
French, and you should hear her speak of the Lord 
Protector and the succor he gave to the poor hunted 
French Protestants. It would warm your heart.” 

“ Is it so ?” said Jack with interest. “Where does 
she live?” 

He listened attentively while Elsa described to him 
the house, and the next day he went out early in the 
morning. When he came in to the mid-day meal he 
told Elsa that the young French lady had an under- 
standing mind and a sweet nature. 

“ Did you go to see her, father ?” asked Elsa. 

“ Ay, that I did, and she asked me to come again. 
You too must go sometimes ; the poor thing is lonely 
in this strange land, for I doubt that her country- 
women whom King Charles has brought over are 
much to her liking.” 

It was shortly after this that Master Stone’s rest- 
lessness took him to Bristol, and when he returned 
to London, Sir Walter had also returned from Thurl- 
ton ; so he did not see the gentle lady very soon again, 
for he had no desire to meet her husband, who was 
reputed the gayest of rollicking Cavaliers. 

During this time matters began to go badly with 


OLD BRISTOL. 


295 


Dick Bardin. The king cared more for money to 
spend on his own pleasures than for the navy and 
the interests of English shipping. And the Baptist 
Bardin, who had been looked on by some with dis- 
favor on account of his religious opinions, was one 
of the first to lose employment when work slackened. 
But Dick had a friend who was both willing and able 
to help him. Mr. Kilfin was just then in need of 
one who could superintend the loading and unload- 
ing of the vessels that were trading for him, and he 
offered this work to Dick, who gladly accepted the 
oflTer. 

It was arranged that he should begin his new duties 
on the 1st of January, but on*’the preceding Sunday, 
December 30th, Mr. Kiffin was absent when the con- 
gregation met in Fisher’s Folly, and the tidings 
spread among them that he was in prison. In great 
alarm, Dick hastened after the meeting was over to 
Mr. KiflSn’s house, and there learned that he had 
been arrested at midnight on Saturday and taken to 
the guard-house at Whitehall on some charge of con- 
spiracy. It was clearly a plot against Mr. Kiffin, 
for there was no one in London who kept himself 
more aloof from the numerous conspiracies that had 
sprung up like mushrooms under each succeeding 
government ; and Dick went home sad and depressed. 
But Elsa’s faith and courage did not fail ; she coun- 


296 


OLD BKISTOL. 


selled him to wait patiently, with trust in God ; and 
Master Stone declared his purpose to try the next day 
what could be done to help Mr. Kiffin. 

Accordingly, at an early hour the next morning 
the two set out together for Whitehall, hoping to 
learn more definitely the accusation brought against 
their friend and benefactor, and to devise some means 
of helping him in this strait. As they were passing 
along King Street they were stopped by a great crowd 
of people collected about the door of an inn. A coach, 
guarded by soldiers, stood before the door, and in a 
few minutes Mr. Kiffin himself was led out. Eager 
inquiries were being made among the crowd as to his 
offence, and they soon gathered that he was accused 
of being engaged in a plot to stir up an insurrection 
in Taunton. 

The king’s eldest sister, the Princess of Orange, 
had died on the preceding Monday, and this event 
was said to have been the signal for putting the plot 
into execution. 

A shout of “ Traitors ! rogues ! hang them all !” 
arose from the crowd as the coach drove off ; but the 
two men scarcely heeded the people around them, 
and followed with all possible speed to Serjeants’ 
Inn, where, they learned, Mr. Kiffin was to be ex- 
amined. After some difficulty Master Stone suc- 
ceeded in gaining admittance to the court-room, 


OLD BKISTOL. 


297 


■where the lord chief-justice sat, but Dick was forced 
to wait outside. 

When Master Stone entered the room Mr. Kiffin 
was being closely examined concerning a letter pur- 
porting to have been written to him from Taunton, 
and containing words to this effect : That the Prin- 
cess of Orange being now dead, they were ready to 
put their design into execution, if, according to his 
promise, he would provide and send down powder, 
matches, bullets, etc., for they believed the promise 
that one of them should drive a thousand. When 
Master Kiffin had answered the question put to him, 
he spoke with dignity and without confusion, saying 
that his lordship would, he knew, take more pleasure 
in clearing an innocent man than in condemning a 
guilty one, and prayed that he might have liberty to 
speak for himself, as he was persuaded that he could 
prove his innocency. 

“You may speak freely what you can,” replied 
his lordship. 

With this permission Mr. Kiffin proceeded to show 
from the letter itself that it was forged. The prin- 
cess died on Monday, the twenty-fourth, but the 
letter was dated from Taunton three days before. 

His lordship had not noted this discrepancy, but 
on referring to the letter he found it to be true. At 
first he hesitated, but soon remarked that there 


298 


OLD BRISTOL. 


might be a mistake in the date, yet the letter itself 
might be true. 

“That I shall leave to your honor’s considera- 
tion,” replied Mr. Kiffin, “but there is one thing 
more, in which, with submission to your honor’s 
judgment, there can be no mistake. There could 
have been no letter written from London to Taunton, 
and an answer to it obtained from Taunton, from the 
time of the princess’s death until the time when I 
was taken. Your lordship knows that the princess 
died on Monday night. Now, no letter could give 
advice of it by post till the next night, and no an- 
swer could be obtained to that letter till the next 
Monday morning; but I was seized the Saturday 
night after her death, which must needs be before 
any post came in.” 

At these words his lordship looked steadily at the 
officer who held Mr. Kiffin prisoner, but he desired 
his lordship to put Mr. Kiffin on his oath. 

His lordship replied in great anger that he would 
not, adding that things were come to a fine pass when 
a lord chief-justice must be instructed by a soldier 
what he ought to do. Then turning to Mr. Kiffin, 
he said, 

“ I am persuaded that you have been abused, but 
if you can find out the authors of the letter I will 
punish them.” 


OLD BRISTOL. 


299 


With that he discharged him. Master Stone and 
Dick lost no time in hastening home with the glad 
tidings to Elsa. 

Although this trouble was safely over, the demon 
of persecution was abroad in the land, and tidings 
began to come in from all sides of those whose lib- 
erty, property, and in some cases whose lives, were 
sacrificed to gratify the malice of their enemies. 
Mr. Kiffin was again arrested at a meeting in Shore- 
ditch, and with several others was taken to prison, 
but he was released at the end of three or four 
days. 

Mr. Kiffin had friends among the lords and ladies 
at Whitehall, and at one time the light monarch, 
who was often in need of money for his gaming- 
tables or for his mistresses, condescended to request 
of him a loan of forty thousand pounds. Mr. Kiffin 
returned a respectful answer that he could not pos- 
sibly lend his majesty so large a sum, but if his 
majesty would honor him by accepting as a gift 
ten thousand pounds, it was very much at his maj- 
esty’s service. The king graciously received the 
gift, and Mr. Kiffin afterward told, with much hu- 
mor, of the way in which he had saved thirty 
thousand pounds. 


CHAPTER XXV. 


FRANCIS CARTHEW BEGINS LIFE. 

NE morning in the autumn of the year 1661, 



^ as Elsa was busied with her household duties, 
she heard a clatter of hoofs in the street. A horse- 
man drew rein before the house-door, and in a few 
moments her little maid-servant came to tell her 
that a stranger wished to speak with her. She went 
to the door with some trepidation, for a stranger in 
those uncertain times was not always a welcome 
guest. She looked with anxiety at the tall, broad- 
shouldered young man who stood on the step with 
his horse’s bridle flung over his arm, but his 
thoughtful face and honest blue eyes reassured 


her. 


He did not seem in any hurry to speak, and she 
was beginning courteously to inquire his errand 
when he cried with an amused smile, 

“You have quite forgotten me. Mistress Bardin? 
Mother told me that I must carry my credentials.” 
He held out to her a packet addressed in Mrs. 


800 


OLD BEISTOL. 


301 


Carthew’s handwriting, but Elsa had recognized 
him now. 

“ Frank Carthew !” she cried joyfully. “ Nay, it 
was but the sunlight that dazzled me. I should 
have known you. Come in and rest. Father and 
Dick will be home for dinner soon.” 

“ If you will tell me where is the nearest hostelry 
I will put up my horse and return to you,” answered 
Frank. 

Elsa directed him to an inn at the next corner, 
and while he was gone she sat down to read her 
letter. 

Mrs. Carthew wrote very briefly. She said that 
Frank was now too old to remain in idleness, and 
that Hugh had suggested that it would be well for 
him to begin to do something for his own support. 
She wished that he should remain in Bristol, but 
Hugh did not favor this idea, and as he was 
Frank’s guardian they must submit to his decis- 
ion. She begged Elsa to watch over her boy, and 
expressed her hope that Master Stone would advise 
and assist him. 

Elsa felt convinced that there was something be- 
hind this, and as Dick came in while she was still 
pondering over it, she handed the letter to him. He 
sat down and read it over, while the little Dickon 
made a horse of his father’s foot and scrambled on 


26 


302 


OLD BEISTOL. 


his knee ; but before there was time to talk over the 
matter Francis entered with Master Stone, whom he 
had met at the door. After hearty greetings the 
whole party sat down to dinner. 

“ Did Master Middleton come with you to Lon- 
don?” asked Dick as he filled Frank’s plate. 

No,” replied Frank ; “ he expects to come in a 
week or ten days, but I did not care to wait for 
him.” 

His face flushed a little proudly as he spoke, and 
Dick concluded that it would be better to wait until 
the meal was over before he asked for any explana- 
tion. After Frank had rested and satisfied his appe- 
tite the explanation came without much asking. 

am tired of doing nothing, Dick,” he cried, 
“ and I cannot go on living with Cousin Hugh. He 
has such underhand ways. As long as he makes 
money it is no matter to him what he says or does. 
Now, I should be glad enough to make money, and 
to have a home to ofier my mother and sisters, but 
I want to do it all in square and honest fashion,” 

“ Ay, ay, my boy,” said Dick, nodding his head 
approvingly. “ That was spoken like your father ; 
but why could you not serve apprentice to some 
trade in Bristol?” 

Frank’s face flushed again, but he answered with- 
out hesitation. 


OLD BRISTOL. 


303 


“The truth is, Dick, that I had a little trouble 
with my cousin. He took me to help him in a trans- 
action that I did not think honest, and I told him 
so. That made him very angry, and we both spoke 
some sharp words. The next day he said that he 
thought it would be better for me to go up to Lon- 
don to learn a trade, and as he had affairs that would 
oblige him to go to London in the course of a few 
weeks, he would take me with him and settle all 
matters of business. You know he is my guardian, 
Dick, and I cannot do anything without his consent, 
but at least I did not want to travel with him ; so I 
persuaded mother to let me come a week earlier with 
Master Nicolls of Bristol.” 

Dick could easily understand the disdain that 
the honest, high-spirited boy felt for the under- 
handed ways of his trimming and shifty cousin, 
and he thought it very probable that Master Middle- 
ton did not care to have Frank’s clear eyes watch- 
ing all his transactions. 

“I would you could have the advice of Master 
Kiffin,” he said ; “ he knows what it is to be in 
trouble. He lost all his relations in 1625, the 
year of the plague, when he was but nine years 
old, and four years after he was apprenticed to 
a brewer. Though he began life in such a mean 
calling, he is now a wealthy and honored merchant. 


304 


OLD BEISTOL. 


and every penny of his fortune has been honestly 
made.” 

Frank listened with much interest, but he did 
not think it best to speak with* Mr. Kiffin. 

“It would make Hugh very cross if I did any- 
thing without consulting him, and you know all 
depends upon him,” he said. 

“Well,” replied Dick, “we must wait, then, for 
your guardian ; but meanwhile you must see some 
of the sights of London. It is time for me to be 
back at the wharf, as we are expecting a vessel 
from Holland this afternoon. Will you come with 
me?” 

Frank willingly accepted the invitation, and the 
rest of the day was spent on the wharves among 
the shipping. 

When they returned in the evening Elsa met 
them with the information that a friend of Frank’s 
had been at the house, and was delighted to learn 
of his arrival in London. 

“I know no one in London save yourself and 
Dick and Master Stone,” said Frank, amazed. 

“Have you forgotten Master Ralph Cortland?” 
cried Elsa merrily. 

“Nay, is he indeed here?” cried Frank. “I am 
right glad of that.” 

“He came this afternoon with a message from 


OLD BRISTOL. 


305 


his sister, who has lately come up to London. She 
is ailing again, and he asked me to go to see her. 
The Lady Louise also sent a kind message. It is 
long since 1 have seen her, for I like not to go there 
alone.” 

“Thou art thinking that I should have offered 
to accompany thee, child,” said her father, smiling, 
“ but I care not to meet the young baronet. Even 
Ralph is not the same lad that he was before his 
brother came back to London.” 

Walter Cortland had not been improved by his 
sojourn in France, and Elsa did not wonder at her 
father’s reluctance to meet him. 

“ Nay, father,” she replied, “ I was only thinking 
that Francis would like to see Ralph, and he would 
accompany me to-morrow.” 

Francis willingly consented, and the next day he 
went with Elsa to Sir Walter Cortland’s fine house 
near Whitehall. When they were ushered into 
the handsomely furnished waiting-room, which was 
filled with little French knickknacks and costly 
toys, as Master Stone called them, Francis began 
to feel a little diffidence. It was so different 
from the sober Puritan household to which he was 
accustomed. 

A little lady entered almost immediately from 
an adjoining apartment. She was richly dressed, 
26 * U 


306 


OLD BRISTOL. 


and her dark eyes and the bunches of dark ringlets 
gathered up on each side of her face gave her a 
foreign appearance. Her accent and the pretty 
little gestures with which she advanced to greet 
Elsa showed plainly that she was Erench. 

As Elsa introduced Francis she made him a 
stately curtsey, but the foreign aspect of the lady 
and all the magnificent surroundings caused him 
to feel very awkward and embarrassed. He was 
heartily wishing that Kalph would appear, when 
the door opened again and a slight and graceful 
young maiden in a simple black gown entered the 
room. 

“I knew I heard your voice, Elsa,” she cried joy- 
fully ; then she drew back at the sight of a stranger. 

“Edith, naughty child!” said the Lady Louise 
playfully, “I thought monsieur le docteur said 
that you were not to leave your couch. I intended 
to ask Mistress Bardin to go to you while Master 
Carthew and I entertained each other.” 

Edith gave another quick glance at Frank, and 
then advanced with a bright smile of pleasure. 

“Are you Francis Carthew?” she said. “I am 
very glad. Ealph talks of you so often. He will 
be rejoiced to see you.” 

Her simple manners and her unaffected words set 
Francis at his ease again, and he was almost sorry 


OLD BRISTOL. 


307 


when the entrance of Kalph put a stop to her eager 
questions about Annette and his mother. 

Ralph certainly had changed very much since 
Francis last saw him, and it was not only that he 
had grown from a boy to a young man. There was 
a discontented look in his bright brown eyes, and at 
times an irritable tone in his voice that Frank had 
never heard before. But his face brightened when 
he saw Frank, and he chatted merrily about the old 
times in Bristol when Avice had cried over the but- 
terfly. Francis noticed that Edith, while she talked 
to Elsa, was watching her brother, and her face bright- 
ened too as she heard him break into a merry boyish 
laugh. 

During the week that intervened before his cousin 
Hugh’s arrival Francis was a great deal with the 
Cortlands, and once he met the young baronet. After 
this meeting he could better understand the irritable 
tone in Ralph’s voice and the look of anxiety that 
sometimes clouded Edith’s face. Whenever Walter 
addressed his brother it was in a sneering tone that 
brought the hot blood to Ralph’s, cheeks and an an- 
gry flash to his eyes. He bit his lips and controlled 
himself in Frank’s presence, but Francis fancied that 
in private there must at times be very bitter words 
between the brothers. 

When Hugh arrived the interest of settling his 


308 


OLD BRISTOL. 


new occupation absorbed all his thoughts. Hugh 
had decided that it would be well for him to learn 
the trade of a goldsmith. The goldsmiths were also 
bankers, and the trade was an honorable and prof- 
itable one ; so Francis willingly agreed to this. He 
was rather old to begin to serve an apprenticeship to 
any trade, but in this one a natural talent was a great 
help to him. He had always shown much taste for 
drawing and designing, and after seeing some of his 
designs Master Crisp, the goldsmith to whom Hugh 
had applied, no longer made any objection to the 
short time of the apprenticeship. The necessary 
papers therefore were soon duly drawn up and 
signed. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

THE PLAGUE IN LONDON. 

rpHREE years had passed away since that bright 
-L autumn morning when Frank Carthew had start- 
led Elsa by his unexpected appearance at the house 
in Thames Street, when one Monday morning Mr. Kif- 
fin told Dick that he had received a letter from a 
friend in Holland, saying that the plague had reap- 
peared there. It had been very violent in Amster- 
dam and Rotterdam the previous year, and Mr. 
Kiffin would not receive goods from those towns, but 
for some months it had seemed that all risk was over. 
Now, however, it had appeared again. How it had 
come was not clear, but there was no doubt that it 
had broken out, and great caution must be exercised 
in receiving goods from Holland. Councils had 
been held to devise means to guard against the 
danger of bringing the fearful disease to England, 
but all was kept very quiet. Although Dick felt 
much anxiety, he followed Mr. Kiffin’s advice to 
keep quiet about it, and did not even mention at 
home what he had heard. 


309 


310 


OLD BRISTOL. 


But in the beginning of December the weekly bill 
of mortality contained the alarming statement : 
“ Plague, 2 ; parishes infected, 1.” 

Upon inquiry it was found that two Frenchmen 
had died in a house in the upper part of Drury 
Lane. From that time the weekly bills began to 
show an increase of mortality that kept the people 
in a constant state of alarm. But as the infection 
seemed to be confined to the parish of St. Giles, and 
severe weather came on in February, the fears of the 
citizens were somewhat abated. 

For a long time Francis had been wishing that his 
mother and sisters would come to see him, and Elsa 
sent pressing invitations. It was at last settled that 
Annette and Avice should come up to London early 
in the spring of 1665 ; and, as the term of his ap- 
prenticeship would expire in June of that year, 
Frank would accompany them back to Bristol. 

“ I wish there was time to send word to Annette 
and Avice not to come,” said Dick when he came 
home one evening in March looking unusually tired 
and anxious. 

“ You must not let yourself grow superstitious, 
Dick,” said his father-in-law. “ I suppose you have 
met that poor man who runs through the streets ?” 

“ I have, indeed,” replied Dick ; “ he passed me 
this afternoon crying in a horror-stricken voice, * Oh, 


OLD BRISTOL. 


311 


the great and terrible God !’ I would have spoken 
to him, but he would not heed me, and they say he 
stops neither for rest nor food.” 

“ And I,” said Master Stone, “ met a man near the 
almshouses, in the narrow passage from Petty France 
to Bishopsgate churchyard. He would have it that 
there was a ghost walking over the gravestones, and 
he was sorely angered when I said I could see noth- 
ing. He pointed and described it till a crowd had 
gathered, and many said they saw the ghost. But I 
am sure it was only their imagination, for I could 
see nothing. ’Tis just such excitement as this that 
will make well people sick though there were no 
plague nearer than the Levant.” 

“ But the blazing star, father ?” said Elsa. “You 
saw that plainly enough when it hung over the city 
for weeks.” 

“ Ay, child, but Mr. Kiffin says that those blazing 
stars are well known to astronomers. However, if 
it be God’s will to send trouble upon us, I shall try 
to bear it bravely when it comes ; but I’ll not waste 
my time in idle fears and imaginations beforehand.” 

Neither Dick nor Elsa replied, but that evening 
Dick urged his wife to write to Mrs. Carthew to 
delay the promised visit. 

“ I fear much that they may have already set off,” 
replied Elsa. 


312 


OLD BRISTOL. 


And, in truth, her fears were well founded, for the 
next morning brought the two sisters to the door. 
The evil was done, if evil was to be dreaded, and 
Elsa welcomed them with hearty greetings and a 
cheerful countenance. 

But as soon as they were alone together Annette 
turned to her, saying, 

■‘What mean those great placards that I see on 
the walls, Elsa ? There is ‘ A Sure Cure for the 
Plague’ at every corner. What means it?” 

“ I cannot tell, Annette,” answered Elsa. “ Men’s 
fears run high, but there have been cases of the 
plague in the city in other years, when it came to 
naught. Master Kiffin, who nearly died of it thirty 
years ago, when it was so bad, says that there are 
no doctors’ nostrums that can kill fear, and fear is 
as fuel to the fire when sickness comes. So keep a 
good heart, child ; and if matters grow worse, my fa- 
ther will take you both safely home ; but while this 
cold weather lasts there is no danger.” 

The same evening Francis and Ralph came in with 
hearty greetings of welcome. With the joyous con- 
fidence of youth .they cast aside all thoughts of 
danger. 

“ How could we have it,” cried Ralph, “ when we 
have been shivering with this bitter cold since De- 
cember? — Nay, Mistress A vice, do not let these 


OLD BRISTOL. 


313 


gloomy forebodings spoil your pleasure. Edith 
is eager to show you the bright side of London.” 

Edith’s brother seemed not at all backward to do 
his share, for he was always ready to escort his sister 
when the pretty Puritan maiden, in her quiet dress, 
formed one of the party. 

But Avice, though she soon formed a strong 
attachment for Edith, was not willing to pass 
much time at the Cortlands’. Sir Walter’s man- 
ners and free compliments displeased her, and the 
manner of the brothers toward each other pained 
her. They seemed to be always at variance, none 
the less bitter because it was generally cloaked 
under seeming courtesy of demeanor. 

“ My brother grudges me every penny I spend, 
and he fancies I grudge him the title,” laughed 
Ralph one day after an unpleasant skirmish of 
words had occurred between the two. “I believe 
he fancies I will despatch him some day to get it 
myself. But what good would that do me while 
there is this little fellow to ride over his poor un- 
cle ?” and he brushed the curls aside playfully from 
the child’s bright face. 

“ Hush ! hush !” said his sister-in-law as at the 
moment Walter passed the open door; but he had 
evidently overheard the words, for he cast a frown- 
ing look at his brother and called away the boy. 

27 


314 


OLD BEISTOL. 


Avice, who was in the room, looked grave and 
distressed, and Ralph seemed to notice it, for when 
Frank and Elsa came to fetch her home he insisted 
on going with them, and catching a moment when 
the others were in conversation he whispered to 
Avice, 

“Do not judge me harshly; he forces me to it. 
But I never say sharp or hard words to Frank, 
and I would rather keep silence for ever than give 
you pain.” 

The eager tone, as much as the words, startled the 
young maiden. She looked up at him in childish 
wonderment as she answered, 

“It is little that it pains me, but it is a great 
deal thus to do what is displeasing to God, for has 
he not said that brothers should live together in 
unity ?” 

Ralph did not answer, and after that day Avice 
did not see him for some time, as the fear of the 
plague continued to increase and Elsa kept her at 
home. The cold winter was followed by a warm 
spring, but in May the weather was variable and 
cool, and the bills of mortality were low. But 
before the end of the month Dick was more alarmed 
than ever by the discovery, through private infor- 
mation, that the weekly bills were not trustworthy. 
In one week, when the bills showed but fourteen 


OLD BRISTOL. 


315 


deaths from the plague iu the parish of St. Giles, 
the real number of deaths was forty, and nearly all 
of them from the plague. 

The same day he told Elsa that she must make 
ready to go to Bristol with their little boy and 
Annette and Avice, and that her father would 
accompany them. It was then nearly the end of 
May, and the term of Frank’s apprenticeship would 
expire on the 15th of June, the day on which he 
came of age. Therefore, after much earnest con- 
sideration, it was decided that, as there had been 
only one case of plague reported within the city- 
walls, they would wait until the third week in June, 
when Francis could accompany them. 

Just at this time it happened that Edith Cortland 
was laid up with a severe cold, and sent to beg that 
Avice would come to her, as Lady Louise was ob- 
liged to go out a great deal and poor Edith found 
the days very long and wearisome. Annette, who 
did not like the company that she had at times 
seen Sir Walter bring home with him, would not 
allow Avice to go, but decided to go herself instead. 
Ralph, who had come for her, looked disappointed, 
and he took occasion to whisper to Avice, 

“ I am trying, but it is very hard. I wish you 
were coming to help me.” 

His usual gay manner was gone, and there was 


316 


OLD BRISTOL. 


a worn and anxious look in his face that made 
Avice look at him with pity as she answered, 

“Annette is better and wiser than I am; she 
will talk to you better than I could. But,” she 
added, “God is the only Helper.” 

“Do you think he would hear me?” he asked 
quickly; and then, as Annette appeared on the 
threshold, he turned away, and they were gone 
before Avice had any opportunity to reply. 

The next week the pestilence was raging furiously, 
and all thought of leaving the plague-stricken city 
was at an end, for Elsa would not hear of leaving 
Dick at such a time, and the fear of carrying the 
infection to Bristol held back the others. Annette 
was still with Edith, for Dick advised that she 
should not return home, as Whitehall, though it 
was the real plague-spot of the city for vice, was 
physically the healthiest part. But soon all were 
to be alike. The court fled to Oxford, and a day 
or two after Master Stone returned from the stately 
Cortland mansion in a white heat of indignation 
and contempt. 

“Sir Walter is ill,” he cried, “ and that pitiful 
coward, Ralph, has fled, leaving those helpless 
women alone.” 

The same question sprang to the lips of all : 

“The plague? is it the plague?” 


I 


V.<. 


. I. 

% 




■ . ,1 . f 


I 



t ■ 

* 


» I 


rl 


> 


1 


4 




.U’*« <,-• ^•'vCP - * 


/r 


,v.r 






“» . * • • •• e. «'■ , 


• •’.*<. -v If J.' ■• v **,,v>^ 

‘ . 1 t *..• V 

' ■ ’■• ''V-— • 





I .»■'. K 

> 


^ .■’ <V 


• • 


v» 

■«. 


■••• 


. * 


%> 




:( 


f * 


■' • ^ >’ ' ’ '* ^ ■ ...-•'’ M * ^ *■ 

, ^iSh 2 . M I * ♦ ■ •' s/v 

.;ic. -^vV • •:^ 

•- -JU » M ImJ 

' . • ^ UV^ 


* s 


u * 




¥< t 


' 4 


,^i 'o- 

H 


■ t 


k* 


V '• 


f ” . “ , * ! * • • * ^ . 

■w » ^ i v 


4* 


i 

« » 




I i 


« ■ • 

f* t , 

I • 


/ ■ V/ 


i ' 


I 




r I <• V ^ 

. I 


> 


i 

• \ 


< 


^ • ' f ■ '' ' r -',’ 


I, : 


‘ \ 


» 


^ “',V - 


f 


•* f 


.V( tll» !x. 


* I 


ry 


■ • ^ ' ' <S 




•• 


'ft' 


• I 


I. 




s 

s 


<• 

• * > * 


I I* 
'.' I 


■'-V 




• f } 


• 1 i,‘ • - .- .-» * . 




. / 


' : V'idf r ^ •' j"' 


*’ r • , . 

: ■ • •*• 

/ 


. * • I 

< • * 


* 1 . • V , 


■'•■^ '• i.'''h‘ '■ ’.-t <»*; 




H 

i 


i ■ ■ ^v.v- •^; .f K ';,\ . . i, ;; 

i'f.' y ‘v. ''V.f.;|-,',-j; ■' V' ..j ' ’ ' 

.,=; ; ,■ ■i-.-tf -ix ,v«. .)■;,}.■ ... ;• 


V 



r 


.■J’> 

^ A 


t” 




»‘ 


Tt 


• V’ {.<* '*'■ 

- V 


A. » 

-V' , 


.Vi 


I " 


I ' 


k « 

% 


* I ‘ /t' 

».■ v't’^ t •••>, V ■ .- 


tv ■;:> .^, 


I* ^ " 






I - 


rn f * 
• - \- 






» 


'■9 

/i 

> . ,W -« . * f 


v< '• ■. •: ■ 

■ '• .’ ■• ■'■ ■■■ \ . ^ 






I V 






’ w® 


' . k 
• ' » 


« ‘ 


• T 


I , •* ‘ 

. t- '' 


I 





a 


/r 


• • '■ . -■■. '\y‘ 



V V •■•'.•. 


«w, *J * 7“ . -f .«> a.T • *1 


» ' ? 
t ‘'r- 




V 

(«•# 



..■' *? 


, *• 

*. - 


I 


; ^ 


ij 






>3 

M 


■v» 

> . 


I 



Page 317 









OLD BRISTOL. 


317 


“Nay/' replied Master Stone; “the servants tell 
me that it is not. But I could gather little from 
them. They would not let me see any one ; I could 
not even get speech with Annette.” 

“ But Ralph ? There must be some mistake about 
him. He would never have fled,” cried Francis; 
and Avice listened breathlessly for the answer. 

“ Yes, he is gone,” answered Master Stone ; “ they 
told me he had fled, and I could get no one to tell 
me more.” 

“I cannot believe it,” cried Elsa; and Avice in 
her heart blessed Elsa for the words, though she her- 
self did not dare to speak; too many plans were 
crowding into her brain. A few minutes later she 
saw Francis quietly leave the room, unnoticed by the 
others ; in a little while she made an excuse and fol- 
lowed him, but even as she did so she heard the house- 
door close behind him. Without waiting for a mo- 
ment’s thought she caught up a large dark mantle 
of Elsa’s that lay on a chair in the entry-way, and 
wrapping it about her she hurried quietly out of the 
house. Francis was striding along in front of her, 
and she ran quickly along the darkening streets till 
she overtook him. He stopped in amazement as 
Avice laid her hand on his arm, but she drew him 
eagerly forward. 

“ I know where you are going,” she exclaimed in 
27 * 


318 


OLD BEISTOL. 


low and pleading tones. “ Annette is there, and I 
must go with you.” 

Francis was going to turn back and insist that she 
must not accompany him, but as he turned a glare 
of torches coming along the street behind and a wild 
cry from the house near them caused him to hurry 
Avice forward again. 

“ God grant that we may meet no one I” he mut- 
tered. “It is a dreadful risk.” 

But he went quickly onward till they came into 
the freer air of the Strand outside the walls. The 
splendid houses were all closed and dreary as they 
drew near Whitehall, and when they reached Sir 
Walter Cortland’s house all was still and not a crea- 
ture was visible. 

“Have they gone?” whispered Avice as they 
pushed open the unlocked door and entered the 
deserted hall. 

But Francis only shook his head and hastened up 
the staircase. The sound of wild ravings issuing 
from one of the rooms caused him to turn back to 
warn Avice to stay below, but she had followed him 
closely, and was already speeding along the corridor 
that led to Edith’s room. At the same time he heard 
Annette’s voice calling softly from the doorway near- 
est to him. 

“ Thank God that you have come, brother !” she 


OLD BRISTOL. 


319 


said in low and hurried tones. “ Yes/’ she answered 
in reply to his questioning look as again the wild 
ravings were heard, “ he was stricken yesterday, and 
when the servants discovered it this afternoon they 
all fled. Lady Louise will not leave him, and I fear 
her strength will fail. She will come out in a few 
moments for food ; see, there it is. Bathe your face 
and hands in this vinegar, and steep your hand- 
kerchief well. Will you stay here while I go to 
Edith ?” 

“Avice is with her already,” replied Francis. 
“She is not ill?” he asked, while a look of sharp 
pain crossed his face. 

“She was well an hour ago,” replied Annette. 
“ But Avice ? Oh, Frank, how could you let her 
come ?” 

“ He did not let me,” said Avice’s gentle voice be- 
hind her; “ I could not stay away. We are in God’s 
hands, dear sister. See, I feel no fear and indeed 
the young face looked very calm and brave as she 
drew Annette from the room to whisper in her ear 
the fearful tidings that Edith was stricken. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


THE RED CROSS. 


T that time the sickness usually ran its course 



in a very few days; and although Francis 
went immediately to fetch Dr. Heath, a skilled 
physician and a Christian who did all that could 
be done for mind and body, on the third day Sir 
Walter Cortland died. 

Edith lay in a sort of stupor, and Avice watched 
by her with unremitting care. Annette was occu- 
pied with the poor Lady Louise, who was half 
wild with grief and the terrible strain on mind 
and body; for, though Francis insisted on taking 
the place of nurse by the bedside of the sick man, 
she could not be kept from the room. 

Francis did not know until the day Sir Walter 
died that Edith was stricken, but after that he was 
every hour at the door of her apartment asking for 
news of her. The first night Francis had returned 
to the house in Thames Street to tell them of Avice’s 
decision, and after that he went daily to report, but 


320 


OLD BKISTOL. 


321 


he never entered the house, for fear of carrying in- 
fection. On the first of July, the day after Sir 
Walter died, the order for closing infected houses 
was issued, and the red cross on the door of the 
house near Whitehall showed that the inmates were 
no longer allowed to come out and pass through the 
streets. 

All this time not a word had been spoken of 
Ralph, and Avice dared not ask. But the day 
after the house was closed, as Avice was sitting at 
Edith’s bedside, while the hot sun glared in the 
street without and an oppressive silence reigned 
through the great house, she heard footsteps and 
the sound of a voice in the distance that made her 
heart beat quickly. A few minutes afterward Ralph 
and Annette entered the room. Edith’s hand moved 
feebly as he bent over her, and she tried to speak, 
but her words were inaudible, and Ralph was so 
much overcome that Annette had to lead him hastily 
from the room. But Edith had evidently recognized 
him, and the stupor was broken. Either the disease 
had not fastened itself so strongly on her delicate 
frame, or else, as Avice sometimes thought with a 
bitter pang, her brother’s cowardly flight had been 
the main cause of her illness; but from that day 
she began steadily to improve. Lady Louise was not 
allowed to come near her apartment, and even when 
V 


322 


OLD BRISTOL. 


Annette and Avice were together in her room they 
rarely spoke, for there was danger in every breath ; 
but one morning, when Edith seemed to be beyond a 
doubt recovering, she asked for Kalph. 

“ He is in the next room with Francis,” said An- 
nette; “go and call him, Avice.” 

Avice went, and as she entered Kalph came eager- 
ly toward her. 

“She is better and asks to see you,” she said; 
“ come in now.” 

“God bless you!” exclaimed Ralph, “you have 
saved her;” and he pressed Avice^s hand to his 
lips. She drew it away with a little shiver and a 
sinking heart as the words of Master Stone, “ A piti- 
ful coward,” seemed to echo through her brain. 

“ You are not ill ?” he asked with a look of intense 
anxiety, but she only shook her head and hastily re- 
turned to Edith’s room. 

Edith was propped up with pillows, and looked 
very pale and weak, but the light in her eyes was 
no longer the brilliancy of fever or the dull glare 
of stupor. 

“ The boy ?” she whispered as he bent over her. 

“ I left him safe and well with mother,” answered 
Kalph. 

“ You should have stayed there too,” she said. 

“Stayed at Thurlton when I did not know how 


OLD BRISTOL. 


323 


you all were, or through what trials you might be 
passing? Nay, nay, sister mine, I am not suoh a 
pitiful coward”’ and he patted her hand, while a 
■faint smile lighted up his haggard face. 

Master Stone’s words repeated, but what a new 
light broke on Avice ! The reaction was too much 
for her, and she slipped away to the next room to 
hide her tears. Francis had left the room ; she was 
alone, and she threw herself on one of the luxurious 
couches half hidden in the deep recess of a window 
and let the tears flow unrestrained. It was all clear 
to her now, and she wondered how it was that she 
had never thought of the boy or noticed his absence. 
She still lay with closed eyes, thinking of the past 
with wonder and gratitude as the heavy weight 
seemed loosened from her heart, when a deep voice 
beside her said hoarsely, 

“ Avice, Mistress Avice, what is the matter ?” and, 
looking up, she saw that Kalph had followed her. 
Her bright smile and glowing cheek reassured him, 
though in truth the color was a blush of self-re- 
proach at the thought that she had distrusted him. 

“ I want to thank you,” he said hurriedly. “ I 
tried hard to be patient with my brother, and when 
he delayed leaving the town, and Louise grew so 
anxious about the child, I took him down to Thurl- 
ton. I little thought I should never see my brother 


324 


OLD BRISTOL. 


again. But God heard my prayer, for Annette 
tells me my brother softened much toward me, and 
sent his love to me when he lay dying.” His voice 
trembled and he turned away, unwilling to trust 
himself to say more. 

His words seemed to put new life into Avice^s 
heart, and when he left the room she knelt down 
♦ under the shadow of the curtain and uttered her 
gratitude in a short and heartfelt prayer. From 
that day Edith gained rapidly, and no new victims 
were stricken in that house. But the hot sun still 
beat down through the sultry August days, and the 
deserted streets and the long rows of houses marked 
with the red cross showed what havoc was still 
being wrought. 

The little household in Thames Street had been 
spared, but death was all around. Often through 
the nights Elsa listened awe-stricken to the rattle 
of the approaching dead-cart with the bellman, 
while the fearful cry, “ Bring out your dead !” re- 
sounded through the street. She could hear the 
cries and groans of the living, who brought the 
bodies of their dear ones to be flung into the fearful 
pit that yawned in the open fields of Finsbury. It 
was impossible to perform any funeral ceremonies, 
and strict orders were issued that throughout the 
day all that might increase the terror in men’s minds 


OLD BRISTOL. 


325 


should be avoided; so at night the dead-cart went 
its rounds and the bellman uttered his awful cry be- 
fore the houses of the living, and carried away the 
dead bodies from those houses where the doors stood 
open and the windows creaked and swung in the night 
breeze, for there were no living hands to close them. 
The churches were crowded, for now it was courage 
and trust in God that gave the license to preach, and 
the people flocked to hear the silenced ministers in 
churches from which the appointed clergy had fled, 
silenced by fear. 

Through August and the first weeks of September 
the pestilence was at its height, and the rules for 
burying by night could no longer be observed, for 
the night was not long enough to bury the dead. 
The houses were no longer closed, for those who were 
well had to mingle with the sick to take care of 
them. Great fires were kindled in the streets to 
purify the air, but a heavy rain extinguished them, 
and they were not relighted, for many doubted if 
they did not do harm rather than good. 

Frank spent much time in visiting the sick, caring 
for them, and praying with them. Dr. Heath had 
given him general precautions against infection, and 
told him that his courage and strong faith in God 
were his best safeguards. Frank also attended to 
buying food for the little household, though he 
28 


326 


OLD BRISTOL. 


himself never entered the house. The provision- 
dealers would not touch the money the customer 
brought, but it was dropped into a pot of vinegar 
on the counter, and the buyer himself took down 
the meat or bread from the shelf, that they might 
not come in contact with each other. 

In the beginning of September the fearful pit was 
dug in Aldgate churchyard. It was forty feet long 
and sixteen wide, and in some places as deep as 
twenty feet. Some cried out in horror at these awful 
proportions, and said they were making ready to bury 
the whole parish. But the men who superintended 
this work understood only too well the ravages that 
the pestilence would make. Two weeks had scarcely 
passed ere the earth was closed over eleven hundred 
and fourteen bodies, rich and poor alike finding here 
a common grave. 

In these weeks the pestilence seemed to have reach- 
ed its height, and suddenly, to the wonder and grat- 
itude of all, it began to abate. The physicians, who 
had been unable to explain the frightful spread of 
the disease, were also unable to account for its rapid 
abatement. In one week there was a decrease of one 
thousand eight hundred and forty-three in the num- 
ber of deaths. On the Thursday morning when this 
week’s bill of mortality came out a weight seemed 
to be lifted off the whole city. People who had 


OLD BRISTOL. 


327 


before hurried along the street, avoiding communi- 
cation with any one, now stopped to tell the glad 
tidings. In the narrow streets people in the plague- 
stricken houses opened their windows and called the 
good news to their opposite neighbors. Many shed 
tears of joy, and fervent thanksgiving to God was 
heard on every side. Entire strangers stopped each 
other in the streets to utter their adoring gratitude to 
the Divine Power that had arrested the progress of 
death when all human help and human skill was in 
vain. 


CHAPTEE XXVIII. 

HUGH MIDDLETON MAKES RESTITUTION, 

T HEEE was now no doubt that the plague was 
over ; there were no new cases and the sick were 
recovering ; but it was not until the following Jan- 
uary that the city began to resume its bustle of 
work and busy life. Then the wildness of panic 
fear was succeeded by foolhardy boldness. Although 
the smoke of aromatic gums and perfumes, used as 
disinfectants, filled the air, and some even burned 
down their houses as the only effectual means of 
purifying them, there was so much carelessness 
shown as the sick began again to come out into 
the streets that Dick and Francis decided that it 
would be well to leave London as soon as possible. 
They all needed rest after the strain that they had 
endured, and Ralph and Edith urged that they 
should go together for a few weeks to Thurlton. 

Mrs. Carthew was there already. During the 
terrible summer months she could not bear to remain 
in Bristol, and she had gone to be with her widow- 
ed friend, who could so fully share her anxiety. 

328 


OLD BRISTOL. 


329 


There the two mothers welcomed back their chil- 
dren, and the color began to return to the pale cheeks 
of the Lady Louise as her little boy again ran with 
childish glee to her arms. 

Another sorrow had come to Dick and Elsa, for 
Mrs. Bardin’s feeble health had given way, and early 
in the summer she was laid to rest. This was just 
at the time when communication was cut off between 
London and the country, so the news did not reach 
them until their return to Bristol. But even this 
sorrow was mingled with thankfulness that she had 
been spared the months of anxiety endured by those 
who had dear ones in the stricken city. 

Soon after their arrival at Thurlton, Francis in- 
formed his mother that he had business with his 
cousin that would take him to Bristol. Kalph, who 
had been preoccupied, and even downcast, sharing 
only with an effort in the joyful thankMness of his 
mother and sister, announced his intention of accom- 
panying Francis. 

They were absent a few days, and when they re- 
turned they brought the news that a few cases of 
plague had occurred in Bristol, and that they had 
found Hugh in the most abject terror, making 
hasty preparations to leave with his family. 

Avice noticed that Ealph looked more downcast 
than before. He avoided her, and indeed kept away 


330 


OLD BRISTOL. 


from all the family, notwithstanding all Frank's ef- 
forts to win him to a brighter mood. 

The morning after their return little Master Vick- 
ris arrived post-haste from Bristol to seek an inter- 
view with Mrs. Carthew. The private conference 
lasted a long time, and both Ralph and Francis 
were called in. When at last Master Vickris de- 
parted the wonderful news spread through the house- 
hold that Captain Carthew’s lost property was recov- 
ered. 

No one exactly understood how this came about, 
as both Mrs. Carthew and Francis declined to enter 
into any business particulars. Ralph, however, had 
insisted that a full explanation should be given to 
Mrs. Carthew, and she alone knew that he had been 
the one to cause this change in their fortunes. 

This was the story that she heard from Francis, 
while Ralph sat gloomily by, quickly and almost 
sternly interposing if Francis showed any inclina- 
tion to pass over or explain away any of the 
facts : 

Before leaving London, Ralph had to undertake 
the duty of examining his brother’s papers. In a 
private drawer he found a packet containing a letter 
and a will. The letter was from Hugh Middleton, 
and was dated soon after Walter’s return to Eng- 
land. It contained a request that the document 


OLD BEISTOL. 


331 


should be returned, as it would cause mischief if it 
fell into other hands, and ended with an assurance 
that any reasonable sum that Sir Walter chose to 
name would be paid for it. 

Wondering what the important document could 
be, Ralph opened the other paper and found that it 
was a will signed by Captain Carthew and written 
just before the battle that cost him his life. Sorely 
perplexed to know how such a document could have 
come into his brother’s possession, Ralph carried the 
papers at once to Francis, but Francis could not or 
would not give any opinion about the strange matter 
until he had inquired of his cousin. The fear that 
some dishonorable action was connected with his 
brother’s name grew stronger in Ralph’s mind, and 
he insisted on going with Francis to hear what ex- 
planation Master Middleton could give. 

The terror of the plague had taken from Hugh 
all his cunning and quickness in deceiving, and as 
soon as he saw his own letter and the will the whole 
truth came out. 

The packet entrusted by Captain Carthew to 
Walter Cortland contained, besides the letter to 
Hugh, some money and valuable papers, and his 
will, by which he left part of his property to his 
wife and sister, and the remainder to his children 
under Hugh’s guardianship. When Hugh found 


332 


OLD BRISTOL. 


all this put into his hands the temptation was too 
strong for him. No one but Walter and himself 
had any knowledge of the contents of the packet; 
no one else had even seen it except Mrs. Carthew, 
who had scarcely noticed it in her preoccupation. 
Hugh had already been trusted so implicitly by the 
captain that he easily managed to turn the money 
and papers to his own account. 

“ Go on,” said Kalph desperately as Francis 
paused ; “ tell the whole. — My brother had no 
money, and Master Middleton paid him well to 
help in cheating you, Mrs. Carthew. There is the 
whole miserable story, and I can only ask that 
you will have the generosity to hide it from my 
mother and sister, and not let the father’s shame 
rest on his innocent boy. I shall take myself off 
somewhere, perhaps to the colonies.” 

“Oh, wait!” cried Mrs. Carthew in a trembling 
voice as he rose to leave the room. “ I can hardly 
understand. Poor Grace! it will be dreadful for 
her. She must not know. — Oh, Kalph, do nothing 
rashly! You were not to blame; perhaps your 
brother did not understand.” 

“We have to thank Sir Walter for saving my 
father’s will,” said Francis, quietly laying his hand 
on Ralph’s shoulder and interrupting Mrs. Car- 
thew’s incoherent words. “Hugh confessed that 


OLD BKISTOL. 


333 


he meant to destroy it, but he could not find it after 
your brother left him.’^ 

But Ralph would not be comforted. He only 
asked bitterly why the will was not immediately 
returned to Mrs. Carthew or to Master Vickris, as 
Francis himself was not of age; and they were 
obliged to abandon the attempt to smooth over 
this disgrace. 

Mrs. Carthew’s kind wish to hide from Grace her 
husband’s wrong-doing was also unavailing. 

The following morning Master Ruberry rode over 
from Taunton, whither he had brought Grace and 
her children to stay with a cousin of his. Hugh 
expected to join them the next day, but Grace sent 
an urgent request that Mrs. Carthe^Y would come 
to see her before he arrived. Mrs. Carthew re- 
turned at once with Master Ruberry, and as soon 
as she saw poor Grace’s pale and careworn face 
she knew that any attempt at concealment was use- 
less. In his distress and terror Hugh had told her 
all. 

“ But he is so penitent, so anxious to repair the 
evil he has done!” said the poor wife. “Can we 
not save him?” 

Mrs. Carthew put little faith in repentance that 
was caused by fear, but she was very anxious to 
spare the innocent ones who must suffer with the 


334 


OLD BEISTOL. 


the guilty one, and she promised to do all she could 
for Hugh. 

Grace dreaded a visit from her uncle and Elsa, 
lest they should see that something was wrong with 
Hugh and herself ; but Master Stone and Dick were 
already too deeply engaged in making plans for the 
future. Their talk turned much on Khode Island 
and the colonies, and at last a piece of news came 
which decided Master Stone. The king had author- 
ized the Five-Mile Act, by which Nonconformist min- 
isters were forbidden to live within five miles of their 
former charges. 

“ I cannot stay here after that, Elsa,’^ said her 
father. “ Not only that godless court is back again 
at Whitehall, with its gaming-tables and all its vices, 
but the good men who were not afraid to take their 
lives in their hands to preach the gospel to dying 
men are again silenced, and even hunted from their 
homes. It goes hard to leave the old country, but I 
cannot stay, child.” 

Dick had only waited for Elsa’s consent, and it 
was soon arranged that the family should sail in 
May. But an event occurred to delay their depart- 
ure for two months. 

It soon became evident that Francis had won the 
heart of the gentle Edith, and a little thread of 
brightness ran through the sorrow of parting and 


OLD BKISTOL. 


335 


the still deeper sorrow over the wrong-doing of loved 
ones when this engagement was announced. And 
even Kalph, who had spent most of his time rid- 
ing about the country, moody and discontented, now 
brightened up and began to talk with interest of the 
marriage. 

“ It is all clear to me now, Frank,” he said eager- 
ly. “You know poor Walter lost almost all his 
money in the life he led, and I could not see what 
to do, but now I think the best way will be to let 
the old hall for a few years, and my mother and sis- 
ter-in-law with the child can live near you and Edith 
in Bristol. As for me,” he added desperately, “I 
must go somewhere ; I cannot stand the life in Lon- 
don if I had the money for it. The court is not 
changed, and I know too many of those wild young 
fellows. I would rather face the plague again than 
go back to that life.” 

“ Then stay with us in Bristol,” urged Frank. 

But Balph shook his head. 

“It is not cowardice, Frank,” he said earnestly. 
“ There is a way open to me, and I must choose it. 
I must go to the New World with the Bardins.” 

Frank urged many reasons against this plan, but 
he soon saw that it was useless, and he could not 
deny that Kalph was probably choosing the wisest 


course. 


336 


OLD BRISTOL. 


Meanwhile, he was much occupied in arranging 
matters in Bristol. Hugh seemed utterly over- 
whelmed and deeply penitent, and Mrs. Carthew 
could not bear the thought of turning him adrift 
on the world, to be driven perhaps to worse deeds. 
Francis was young and inexperienced, and his four 
years’ apprenticeship to the goldsmith would do him 
little good as a merchant ; so it was finally settled 
that Hugh should remain in the business under 
Francis. 

Grace was deeply grateful for this arrangement, 
and as soon as the plague, of which there were but 
few cases in Bristol, was stayed, she returned with 
Hugh and their children to her father’s house. 

There was so much to be done and thought of 
that the marriage of Francis and Edith was delayed 
until the 1st of September ; and one week afterward 
Hick and Elsa and their boy, with Jack Stone and 
Kalph, sailed down the Severn on their way to the 
New World. 

The same day the tidings reached Bristol of the 
terrible fire that in four days had laid the greater 
part of London in ashes. But it was checked be- 
fore it reached Whitehall, and, as in the time of the 
plague, the dissolute court escaped. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


FAREWELL TO OLD BRISTOL. 

rriHE summer of 1674 was over, and the woods 
that overhung the chasm of the Avon were tak- 
ing on their autumn garb of gold and ruddy brown, 
when one morning Francis entered the room where 
his two sisters sat at their needlework. His face 
looked worn and weary, and he threw himself into 
a chair with a heavy sigh. 

“ What is it, brother ?” asked Annette as she 
lifted the hat that he had dropped on the floor ; “ is 
there more trouble?” 

“ One can hardly say more or less trouble now, 
for it is naught but trouble. I have just come from 
the Tolzey, where the new bishop, Guy Carleton, 
is set with his meet companion, Ralph Ollive the 
vintner.” 

“ Oh, Francis !” cried Avice, he has not surely 
succeeded in having that man appointed mayor? 
He is scarce ever sober. ’Tis a marvel how he ever 
made money at his trade, Dorothy Terrill says, for 
he could drink all his stock.” 

29 w 337 


338 


OLD BRISTOL. 


“ The more fit for the lord bishop’s purpose,” re- 
plied Francis gloomily. “ ’Tis no time for light 
speeches, child, when one sees an old gray-headed 
man cursing all who will not come to the church, as 
he calls it, and vowing that he will not leave a track 
of our meetings in Bristol. Think what it means, 
now, Annette; there are no less than six churches 
that he means to hunt to the death. We were count- 
ing only last night, Mr. Terrill and I, how the 
churches have increased during these few years in 
spite of opposition. There is our own ; and Mr. 
Gifford’s in the Pithay; and Mr. Thompson’s the 
Independent; and the Presbyterians under Mr. 
Weeks. Mr. Kitchen’s congregation of Baptists, 
by reason of their views on free will, is small, 
and Mr. Troughton reckons but a score, and they are 
mostly women. But these four large churches num- 
ber hundreds, yet we are but as kids among wolves. 
Has the Lord forgotten his people ?” 

He dropped his head on his hand in moody si- 
lence, but Annette, though her cheek had paled at 
the thought of further persecutions, and particularly 
from such men as Bishop Carleton and Mayor Ollive, 
still fought down the fear within her as unworthy 
and faithless, and answered bravely, 

“ Kay, Francis, the Lord is ever mindful of his 
own, and we will not fear what man can do unto us. 


OLD BKISTOL 


339 


It is not like you to be despondent. You are weary 
and the morning is far spent. — Avice child, see if 
the dinner will be ready a little earlier than usual. 
I know Francis stands in need of refreshment.” 

Avice quickly took the hint and went out toward 
the kitchen, but as the door closed after her Francis, 
who had followed with his eyes her graceful figure, 
sighed again and said, 

“It is not for myself that I am despondent, 
Annette. But I think of what you and Avice 
may have to suffer; and sometimes I ask myself 
if it will not be better to break up and seek a new 
home across the water.” 

Annette sat for a few moments with her hands 
clasped on her knees and her lips pressed tightly 
together. 

“Is it brave, is it right, to urge us to flee from 
the trouble?” she said at last in a low tone. 

“Nay, Annette,” her brother answered gently, 
taking her hand, “ thou art too brave ever to think 
of flight, but think of Avice. It seems to me that 
she grows more beautiful every day, and how can I 
let her go to our meetings, where we shall be con- 
stantly exposed to insults and attacks from Bishop 
Carleton’s men? Thou hast courage and dignity 
to overawe any one, but that gentle, lovely child ! 
Annette, we must go, I fear, to seek a freer and 


340 


OLD BRISTOL. 


more peaceful home, though, God knows, I am loath 
to think of leaving old England.’^ 

“Wait until to-morrow. I will think of it, but 
meanwhile do not speak of this project,” entreated 
Annette with trembling voice; and Francis had 
just time to give the promise when the door opened 
and Mistress Bertha entered. 

“Where is Edith?” she asked hastily. 

“ She has gone out to see old Mrs. Hazzard, who 
is very low,” replied Francis. “ What is the matter. 
Aunt Bertha?” 

“Do go into the wainscot parlor, Frank,” said 
the old lady. “ There is a man there whom I never 
saw before, asking for Edith. Who knows what 
he may be? As Mr. Weeks truly says, we can 
wonder at nothing that befalls us under this wick- 
ed king. He may be come to take our child to 
prison.” 

All the younger members of the family were 
still children to Mistress Bertha, not even excepting 
Annette, who was now a grave and thoughtful 
woman. Frank was not as easily alarmed as his 
aunt; still, it was with a little anxiety that he 
opened the door of the room where the stranger 
was waiting. 

“God bless you, Frank! it does me good to 
see your grave face again,” cried a hearty voice; 


OLD BRISTOL. 


341 


and Ralph Cortland grasped him warmly by the 
hand. It was Ralph himself, with his face em- 
browned by exposure to the weather and hands 
hardened by honest work in the wilderness, but a 
better Ralph than the restless young man who had 
sailed away eight years before with wounded pride, 
battling hard to stifle the little germs of faith and 
love in his heart. A clear, steadfast light, better 
than all the boyish brightness and gayety of former 
days, shone in his brown eyes as he said, in answer 
to Frank’s eager inquiries, 

“ God has been very merciful to me, and kept me 
from many dangers in a pioneer life, and he has 
helped me to conquer still worse dangers in my 
own heart. But tell me of yourselves,” he added 
quickly. “ Edith ? My mother ? Mrs. Carthew ?” 

“ They are all well,” answered Frank, “ and will 
be overjoyed to see you.” 

“And your sisters?” said Ralph. “They are 
here ? they are not married ?” The last words came 
a little hesitatingly, but he looked eagerly for the 
answer. 

“ Yes, they are here,” replied Frank. “ We could 
not spare Annette to the best man in the kingdom. 
She is busy and happy, whatever troubles come, 
and comforts us all. But come in and see them.” 

As he spoke he led the way to the room he had 
29 * 


342 


OLD BRISTOL. 


just quitted, where Ralph received a most cordial 
greeting from Annette. Mistress Bertha could 
hardly be convinced that this was indeed young 
Master Ralph Cortland, but when at last she ad- 
mitted it, her welcome, though stately, was heart- 
felt and sincere. 

Before long Edith returned to receive the glad tid- 
ings of the return of her long-absent brother. At first 
Ralph was a little puzzled to recognize in the fair 
matron surrounded by three rosy-cheeked children 
the delicate sister whom he had left eight years be- 
fore; but when Avice at last entered the room he 
found one who had not changed. She was small in 
figure, and the quiet, happy trust that always lighted 
up her beautiful face made her still look like the 
child that her brother always called her. Annette, 
indeed, had sometimes thought during these latter 
years that there were hopes and fears hidden under 
that quietly happy face that no one shared, and she 
had wished to warn Avice of Ralph’s arrival. But 
there seemed to be no need of this, for when she en- 
tered the room, just as Annette was going to seek 
her, she held out her hand to him with a smile of 
welcome as though it had been but yesterday they 
parted. 

The conversation soon turned upon the changes 
that had taken place since Ralph left. 


OLD BRISTOL. 


343 


“ It is four years since Mr. Ewins, our dear pastor, 
died ; his strength was weakened by many imprison- 
ments, for he would not give up preaching as long as 
he was able to speak to us. When at last he fell 
asleep we could not mourn, for he was taken from 
the evil that followed.’’ 

“ Have the persecutions been so bitter ?” asked 
Ralph. 

“We were driven from one place to another by 
the sheriff’s officers, and at last we got a loft in 
Whitson Court, where we met for a time undis- 
turbed ; but a new mayor drove us forth again. 
The doors were nailed and bolted, and we were 
forced to meet in the lanes and byways. Now we 
have a large room in Broadmead, but I fear that 
already the storm is brewing that may drive us 
forth. But tell us of the work in Rhode Island,” 
continued Frank. 

“ Our little church in Newport increases daily in 
strength and earnestness,” replied Ralph, “ and the 
grand principle of religious liberty is still firmly 
held there.” 

“ Elsa wrote to me of your baptism a year ago,” 
said Mrs. Carthew. “ It made our hearts glad, 
I assure you.” 

“ Did she tell you that Master Stone is now one 
of the most active and earnest members of that 


344 


OLD BRISTOL. 


church? The new country has been new life to 
him, and soon after his arrival he united with the 
Newport Church. His earnest, straightforward 
words are heeded by many who would turn away 
from the preacher. The old soldier who has fought 
through the German wars and England’s struggle 
is eagerly listened to, and he never lets his hearers 
go without a word for liberty of conscience and the 
truth.” 

Further inquiries drew out the facts that Dick 
and Elsa were prospering, and that Ralph himself, 
after many years of wild life, wandering among the 
Indians and through the different colonies, had at 
last settled on a farm of his own near Newport. 
He had now come to England to spend a few 
months; exactly how long he did not seem able 
to say. The reason of this uncertainty, however, 
was explained the next day in a private interview 
with Francis. This interview lasted a long time, 
and when it was over Ralph did not reappear. He 
had gone to Thurlton, Francis said, but he had left 
word that he would return by the end of the week. 
There was evidently something troubling Frank, 
and in a little while he poured out the whole matter 
to Annette the counsellor. 

“ I am in great embarrassment, Annette,” he said 
with contracted brow. 


OLD BRISTOL. 


345 


“ What is the matter ?” asked his sister anxiously ; 
“ has Cousin Hugh got into any trouble ?” 

“ No ; he tries to do well, though I have to watch 
closely, for the habit of little deceptions is hard to 
break through. That was what displeased me at the 
time when he was chief and I had only to obey. 
But it is not that, Annette ; it is Ralph. What do 
you think he wants ? What do you suppose he asks ?” 

A sudden presentiment came over Annette like 
a chill, but she did not speak, and Francis con- 
tinued ; 

“ He asks for Avice, our little Avice. But it can- 
not be, Annette.” 

“ Why not, brother ?” asked Annette after a mo- 
ment’s pause. “ Can you not trust him ?” 

“ Oh, he is like a brother to me, and he has come 
out of the furnace like refined gold. But Avice, the 
child ! She has never thought of marrying, and 
to let her go — No, no, Annette! it cannot be. 
Mother could never bear it.” 

Annette’s heart spoke the protest as strongly as 
Francis’s voice, but she had watched her sister with 
keener eyes. 

“ Bid him wait, Francis,” she said with a little 
tremor in her voice. “Avice herself must decide, 
but bid him not hurry her. He has been away 
so long, and he has changed since she knew him.” 


346 


OLD BRISTOL. 


Thus it was settled, and Ralph could not but see 
himself the justice of the request. 

But now the storm of persecution broke loose 
against the dissenting congregations in Bristol. 
John Hellier, an evil-mouthed attorn ey^at-law, 
who by dishonest practice had gained an income 
of two hundred pounds a year, was the principal 
instrument of the bishop and the mayor. A license 
to preach had been granted by King Charles to Mr. 
Hardcastle in 1672, when he succeeded Mr. Ewins, 
and another license was granted for the use of rooms. 
But it was now evident that Bishop Carleton was 
determined to silence the preachers and to close the 
the rooms. The four congregations, therefore, de- 
cided to choose each of them out of their number 
two men who understood the law and could plead 
for them in case of difficulties. Their appeal to 
justice only incensed the violent bishop, who cared 
little for law, and, finding himself in danger of be- 
ing thwarted, he went to London to complain to the 
king. The eight counsellors of the congregations 
sent at the same time an agent to London to watch 
the bishop and to testify to the king concerning the 
peaceable character of their meetings. Thus the 
congregations met without hindrance till February. 
The alarming tidings then came that the king had 
issued a proclamation against the Papists, and at the 


OLD BRISTOL. 


347 


end of the proclamation all licenses given to Dissen- 
ters were declared null and void. 

“ Our last bulwark is swept away now,” said Frank 
as he brought home this news, “ but God can defend 
the oppressed.” 

“ ’Tis a cruel injustice that the king has done,” 
cried Edith in dismay. 

But Annette only said, 

“ God has promised that his strength shall be made 
perfect in our weakness. We can trust him.” And 
the steadfast look on her face showed that her faith 
and courage did not fail. But the trial was to be a 
severe one. 

On the Sunday following the bishop’s return from 
London they heard that Mr. Thompson had been 
stopped and carried to prison ; and a week later, 
on the 14th of February, Mr. Weeks and Mr. Hard- 
castle were imprisoned. 

A few days 'after this Frank had another long con- 
versation with Annette and his mother. Ralph was 
away at Thurlton, for his time was divided between 
the hall and Bristol, but when he returned a few 
days later Frank met him with the assurance that 
he would put no obstacle in the way to prevent him 
from winning Avice. 

“ I dreaded to let her go to meet the hardships of 
life in the forests of the New World,” he said, “but 


348 


OLD BRISTOL. 


what are they compared to what we must endure 
here? Last Sunday we decided to meet together, 
though our pastor was imprisoned, and we invited 
the Presbyterians of Mr. Weeks’s congregation to 
meet with us to sing and pray and read the Scrip- 
tures. We had to make the doors fast, and to ap- 
point young men to watch without and give us notice 
if the informers came. But in spite of all precau- 
tions they found their way in. Aunt Bertha had 
many scruples about going, for the Presbyterians 
deem it not right to hear any man who is not bred 
at a university and ordained. But she came, and, 
with others of the women, sat on the stairs, that the 
informers might be hindered from coming up quick- 
ly and arresting the brethren who led the meeting. 
But Hellier and his men little heed where they 
strike or trample, and she was sorely bruised as they 
dragged her out of their way. At last they broke 
open another door and got in on us in that way, 
carrying off three to prison.” 

“ I would you could all come to Bhode Island,” 
said Ralph, but Francis shook his head : 

“ My mother is too feeble to bear the voyage, and 
Aunt Bertha could not leave England ; an old tree 
is not easily transplanted. It would go hard, too, 
with Edith to leave her mother. Nay, my place is 
here. But God is showing me that my arm cannot 


OLD BRISTOL. 


349 


defend all my dear ones. I fear I trusted too much 
to my own strength. But,” he added more cheer- 
fully as he grasped Kalph’s hand, you are like a 
brother to me already ; there is no one to whom I 
would so gladly trust my sister. I can heartily say, 
God bless you both ! if you win her.” 

Ralph had already made up his mind that he 
must learn his fate at once, as he could not remain 
much longer in England. His farm had been taken 
for a year by a man whom he could trust, but it was 
time for him to think of returning. He thought that 
he caught an expression of pain on Avice’s fair face 
when once he spoke of this. But he knew that she 
would never accompany him against the wishes of 
those so dear to her, and the prospect of returning 
without her was almost too dark for him to face. 
Now Frank’s words gave him new hope, and it was 
confirmed by the answer he received that day from 
Avice herself. Sadly but hopefully the different 
members of the family gave their consent. It was, 
however, no time for wedding-festivities, and on ac- 
count of the violent proceedings of the bishop it 
was decided that the marriage should take place 
very quietly just before the vessel was to sail. 

To the Baptists and other Dissenters of Bristol it 
was a dark day. Mr. Hardcastle was still in the 
prison, which was so foul that Mr. Thompson, who 
30 


350 OLD BRISTOL. 

was in ill-health at the time of his arrest, died after 
two weeks’ confinement in the jail. The congrega- 
tions still continued to meet, but they were forced to 
devise various ways for concealing those who took 
the lead. One of the surest methods was to hang a 
curtain across the room, behind which the speaker 
with fifty known friends was placed ; thus if any 
disguised informer was in the room he could only 
hear the voice and could not see the speaker. And 
in case the informers rushed in on them the curtain 
was quickly drawn up, and the whole assembly 
united in singing a hymn, so that no one could be 
singled out as leader. 

When the time drew near for A vice to leave them 
the whole family felt it keenly, and Annette’s powers 
were taxed to the utmost in her efforts to cheer 
them. 

At last the day of departure dawned, an April 
day of sunshine and showers. The whole family 
went with them to the wharf. The last good-byes 
were said, and the gallant ship moved slowly from 
its moorings. Avice stood on the deck as the 
wharf receded, straining her eyes through a mist 
of tears to catch the last glimpse of the little 
group. 

“ Look, Kalph !” she said eagerly as the April 
sun in one of its fitful gleams flooded the steep 


OLD BRISTOL. 


351 


streets of the old town, lightiag up the spires and 
gables and brightening the tender green of the hills 
and woods beyond, “ old Bristol is giving us a part- 
ing smile.’’ 

“God grant that it may be a harbinger of a 
brighter day for the dear old city!” replied her 
husband. 

As the spreading sails carried the vessel farther 
down the stream, and the eager eyes of the watch- 
ers on the shore could no longer discern the loved 
faces on the deck, Annette’s courage seemed for a 
moment about to fail her. 

“ Be of good cheer, dear Annette,” whispered 
Edith; “it is scattering the good seed; the winds 
of persecution but carry the truth to the farthest 
corners of the earth.” 

It was a word in season, and a smile shone 
through the tears in Annette’s eyes as she mur- 
mured, 

“ ‘ Thy way is in the sea, and thy path in the 
great waters, and thy footsteps are not known. 
Thou leddest thy people like a flock by the hand 
of Moses and Aaron.’ ” 


THE END. 


9^4 





































4 









yyr 




>'.■ r. K 



# if 




